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THE    POETICAL   WORKS 

OF 

FRANCES    RIDLEY    HAVERGAL 


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AUTHOR  S  AUTHORIZED  EDITION. 


THE 


POETICAL    WORKS 


ov 


Frances  Ridley  Havergal. 


—^o<— 


FLEMING     W.     REVKl.L. 


New   York: 
12  bible  house,  astor  place. 


Chicago: 
148  and  150  madison  street. 


Ipubllebei  of  lEvar.gcI'cal  Xitetatuie. 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


It  is  in  answer  to  many  requests  that  the  various  poems, 
hymns,  and  songs  of  Frances  Ridley  Havergal  are  com- 
prised in  this  library  edition.  It  will  be  obvious,  there 
was  some  difficulty  in  selecting  the  order  of  their  sequence. 
We  doubt  not  that  the  dear  author's  own  arrangement  in 
'  Ministry  of  Song,'  *  Under  the  Surface,'  and  *  Loyal 
Responses,'  Avill  be  generally  preferred,  and  consequently 
they  remain  intact.  To  group  successfully  poetic  aspira- 
tions of  such  varied  circumstances  and  ideas,  ranging  from 
the  sweet  simplicities  of  her  songs  for  the  litde  ones,  to 
those  higher  soarings  which  seem  to  culminate  in  'The 
Thoughts  of  God,'  was  indeed  a  problem.  And  it  is  due 
to  my  dear  sister's  memory  to  state  distinctly  that  she 
never  contemplated  the  publication  of  many  impromptu 
verses,  written  to  gratify  young  friends,  or  in  the  utterance 
of  rapid  imaginings.  When  F.  R.  H.  was  arranging  a 
selection  for  the  first  illustrated  volume,  *  Life  Mosaic,' 
she  submitted  her  poems  to  her  poet  friend,  the  Rev.  R. 
Wilton,  earnestly  soliciting  him  to  prune  away  with  un- 
sparing keenness  'any  of  my  weaker  poems.'  And  we  are 
aware  that  other  poet  critics  would  prefer  only  the  finer 
chords  to  be  lasting  echoes  of  F.  R.  H. 

But  there  are  many,  oh,  so  many,  who  lovingly  treasure 


963839 


viii  PRE  FA  TOR  V  NO  TE. 

even  the  spray  of  her  pen,  as  well  as  the  nobler  waves  of 
thought,  and  so  we  open  and  unseal  all  the  manuscripts  in 
her  study  drawers.  For  some  of  her  simpler  utterances 
seem  to  go  at  once  to  the  heart  of  those  in  humbler  life, 
and  their  intellect  can  better  grasp  such  thoughts  than  the 
loftier  flights  of  her  imagination.  By  them  it  is  not  as  a 
feast  of  intellect,  but  as  heart  cheer  for  home  sorrows,  that 
F.  R.  H.'s  lowliest  lays  are  prized. 

The  arrangement  is  subjective,  not  chronological.  But 
in  the  Index  will  be  found  the  dates  and  places  of  her 
poems  ;  we  are  aware  this  is  unusual,  but  it  would  seem 
as  if  her  sunny  presence  and  springing  footsteps  may  thus 
still  linger  in  our  midst.  It  is  with  pleasure  that  I  entrust 
to  my  dear  niece,  Frances  Anna  Shaw,  the  entire  arrange- 
ment and  revision  of  this  complete  and  final  edition.  It 
was  no  slight  labour  to  prepare  the  various  dates  and 
subdivide  the  numerous  subjects  into  their  present  order. 
In  shattered  health,  I  thankfully  accept  my  niece's  skilful 
labour.  And  we  would  bring  these  pages  with  loyal 
loving  hand  to  the  very  feet  of  F.  R.  H.'s  Master  and  King, 
re-echoing  words,  which  seem  to  float  down  from  the 
golden  heights  where  now  my  sister  stands  amid  the 
upper  choir,  joining  the  service  of  high  praise  in  the 
'  Eternal  Land  : ' 

'  I  have  no  words  to  bring 
Worthy  of  Thee,  my  King, 
And  yet  one  anthem  in  Thy  praise 
I  long,  I  long  to  raise.' 

'  One  anthem '  ?  Have  they  not  been  countless  ?  has 
not  her  silver  refrain  echoed  and  re-echoed  till  many  an 
isolated  and  trembling  one  has  taken  up  in  a  gathering  and 
rejoicing  chorus,  '  Unto  Him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us 


PRE  FA  TOR  V  NO  TE.  ix 


from  our  sins  in  His  own  blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings 
and  priests  unto  God  and  His  Father ;  to  Him  be  glory  and 
dominion  for  ever  and  ever.     Amen,' 

And  does  not  F.   R.  H.'s  earliest  prelude  become  a 
fitting  closing  chord  to  her  life  and  poems, — 

'  Amid  the  broken  waters  of  our  ever-restless  thought, 
Oh  be  my  verse  an  answering  gleam  from  higher  radiance  caught ; 
That  when  through  dark  o'erarching  boughs  of  sorrow,  doubt,  y\<^ 

sin, 
The  glorious  Star  of  Bethlehem  upon  the  flood  looks  in, 
Its  tiny  trembling  ray  may  bid  some  downcast  vision  turn 
To  that  enkindling  Light,  for  which  all  earthly  shadows  yearn. 
Oh  be  my  verse  a  hidden  stream,  which  silently  may  flow 
Where  drooping  leaf  and  thirsty  flower  in  lonely  valleys  grow  ; 
And  often  by  its  shady  course  to  pilgrim  hearts  be  brought. 
The  quiet  and  refreshment  of  an  upward-pointing  thought ; 
Till,  blending  with  the  broad  bright  stream  of  sanctified  endeavour, 
God's  glory  be  its  ocean  home,  the  end  it  seekcth  ever.' 

MARIA  V.  G,   HAVERGAU 


INDEX. 


MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


TITLE. 

DATE. 

WHERE  WRITTEN, 

PAGE 

Prelude,    .... 

Dec.  26,  1859, 

3 

The  Ministry  of  Song, 

Feb.  27,  1867, 

Oakhampton, 

4 

Our  Hidden  Leaves, 

Feb.  13,  1867, 

Do. 

8 

Threefold  Praise, 

Feb.  26,  1867, 

Do. 

II 

Not  Yet,    .         .                  . 

i860. 

19 

Thanksgiving,  . 

March,  1866, 

21 

Life-Crystals,    . 

March,  1868, 

23 

Not  Your  Own, 

Jan.  21,  1867, 

Shareshill,   . 

25 

Wounded, 

1867, 

... 

26 

Whose  I  am,     . 

Dec,  1865, 

...                  .*        . 

28 

Whom  I  serve. 

Dec,  1865, 

29 

Peace,        .... 

Jan.  7, 1867. 

Shareshill,    . 

30 

God's  Message, 

Feb.  21,  1867, 

Oakhampton, 

31 

A  Great  Mystery, 

Dec.  10,  1866, 

Do. 

33 

Be  not  Weary,  . 

Nov.,  1865, 

Shareshill,    . 

35 

The  Great  Teacher,  . 

August,  1867, 

Morecambe  Bay. 

36 

Auntie's  Lessons, 

Nov.,  1865, 

Oakhampton, 

39 

Rest 

Oct.  28,  1865, 

Do. 

41 

One  Question,  Many  An- 

swers,    .... 

April,  1857, 

... 

42 

Content,    .         .         .         . 

Jan.  8,  1867, 

Shareshill,   . 

•       4-i 

Misunderstood, 

Jan.  18,  1867, 

Do.        . 

•       47 

Sunbeams  in  the  Wood,    . 

July  12,  1859, 

Oakhampton, 

•       50 

The  Star  Shower, 

Nov.  14,  1866 

Do.       . 

•       51 

Treasure  Trove, 

May,  1867, 

... 

54 

Coming  Summer, 

1859, 

HI 

... 

■      55 

xu 


INDEX. 


TITLE. 

DATE. 

WHERE  WRITTEN. 

PAGE 

September, 

1868, 

Winterdyne, 

57 

Early  Faith, 

Jan.,  i860. 

... 

59 

Our  Father, 

Feb.  25,  1867, 

Oakhampton, 

61 

Disappointment, 

Nov.  20,  1868 

,  Winterdyne, 

67 

The  Song  Chalice,    . 

Jan.  7,  1869, 

Leamington, 

69 

Silent  in  Love,  . 

Jan.  17,  1869, 

Do. 

70 

Light  and  Shade, 

1866, 

71 

No  Thorn  without  a  Rose, 

1866, 

... 

73 

Yesterday,    To-day,     and 

for  Ever, 

1868, 

...                                        a                 . 

76 

Christ's  Recall, 

i860. 

...                                        • 

n 

Faith's  Question, 

i860. 

...                                        . 

78 

'I  did  this  for  Thee," 

Jan.  10,  1858, 

Germany,     . 

80 

Isaiah  xxxiii.  17, 

Feb.  6,  i860, 

Worcester,    . 

82 

God  the  Provider, 

Jan.,  1866, 

...                    . 

83 

Wait  patiently  for  Him,    . 

Oct.,  1868, 

Oakhampton, 

85 

This  Same  Jesus, 

Dec.  II,  1864, 

Do. 

86 

Mary's  Birthday, 

July,  1850, 

... 

88 

Daily  Strength, 

Jan.  I,  1859, 

Worcester,    . 

90 

The  Right  Way, 

Oct.,  1866, 

Oakhampton, 

91 

Thy  Will  be  done,     . 

July,  1866, 

Luccombe, 

93 

The    Things     which     are 

Behind, 

i860. 

95 

'  Now  I  See,'     . 

March,  i865. 

.  •  •                                        < 

95 

Everlasting  Love, 

Sept.  5,  1868, 

Winterdyne, 

96 

'Master,  say  on,' 

May,  1867, 

Weston-super-Mare, 

98 

Remote  Results, 

March,  1867, 

... 

lOO 

On  the  Last  Leaf,     , 

Nov.  23, 1865, 

Oakhampton, 

lOI 

How  should  they  know  me. 

July,  1868, 

Scotland, 

104 

Making  Poetry,         ,    '     . 

Jan.,  1868, 

106 

The  Cascade,    . 

July,  1856, 

Celb  ridge,    . 

109 

Constance  De  V , 

Feb.,  1859, 

... 

III 

Fairy  Homes,    . 

April,  1854, 

124 

More  Music, 

1861, 

125 

Travelling  Thoughts, 

Jan.  26,  1866, 

126 

New  Year's  Wishes,  . 

March,  1858, 

... 

129 

Bonnie  Wee  Eric, 

Jan. ,  1869, 

Leamington, 

130 

My  Sweet  Woodruff, 

July  13,  1866, 

Lynton, 

132 

Our  Gem  Wreath,     . 

Aug.  18,  1858, 

Worcester,  . 

133 

My  Name, 

April  I,  1868, 

Leamington, 

141 

INDEX. 


xui 


TITLE. 

Faith  and  Reason,     • 

Lynton,     . 

A  Birthday  Greeting, 

A  Lull  in  Life, . 

Adoration, 


DATE.  WHERE   WRITTEN 

March,  1859,  Oakhampton, 

July  19, 1866,  Lynton, 

Sept.  II,  1868,  Winterdyne, 

Dec.  31,  1866,  Shareshill,    . 


PAGE 

.  148 
-  150 
■      150 


EARLY  POEMS. 


'  I  leave  it  all  with  Thee,' 

1851, 

••• 

•     157 

Matt.  xiv.  23, 

1854, 

•     159 

Matt.  xxvi.  30, 

Feb.,  185s, 

•  •• 

.     160 

'  Leaving  us  an  Example, 

June,  185s, 

... 

.     163 

Our  English  Sabbaths, 

1859, 

.     165 

Colossians  iii.  2, 

Nov.,  1854, 

Bath,    . 

.     167 

Clouds  in  Prospect,  . 

.     Feb.,  1854, 

.     169 

Earth's  Shadow, 

April  II,  1855, 

Worcester,   . 

•     171 

Aspirations, 

1858, 

... 

.     172 

Sunset, 

July  31,  1851, 

Droitwich,    . 

•     174 

The  Spirit's  Longings, 

May  13,  1855, 

Oakhampton, 

•     175 

The  Old  and  New  Earth, 

.    Jan.  6,  1854, 

... 

.     176 

Astley  Bells, 

.     Nov.  8,  1857, 

Oakhampton, 

.     178 

'  Pray  for  me, '  . 

1859, 

... 

.     i8i 

On  the  Death  of  Captaii 

1 

Allan  Gardiner, 

1852, 

.     183 

'Thank  God,'   . 

185s. 

.     185 

The  Maidens  of  England  t 

0 

H.R.H.  Princess  Royal 

1858, 

Worcester,   . 

.     187 

'  No,  not  a  Star," 

1859, 

... 

.     188 

MISCELLANEOUS. 


The  Queen  of  the  Sea, 

March,  1855, 

«93 

Two  Points  of  View, 

July  23,  1855, 

Langland  Bay, 

194 

Morning  Song, 

.    June,  1857, 

... 

195. 

Evening  Song,  . 

.     June,  1857, 

19.'') 

Peace, 

.     April,  1856, 

196 

Fragments, 

Nov.,  1872, 

Leamington, 

198 

The  Wandering  Sunbeam 

1855- 

202 

May  Dav,          .         , 

1851, 

203 

XIV 


INDEX. 


TITLE. 

Forest  Voices,  . 

The  Shower, 

Tiny  Tokens,    . 

April, 

The   Song   of  a   Summer 

Stream, 
An  Autumn  Hohday, 

The  Song  of  Love, 

The  Awakening, 

The  Poet's  Zenith, 

Mischief  Making, 

The  Lorely, 

For  Denmark,  ho  ! 

My  Singing  Lesson, 

The  Choir  of  Llangryffyth 

The  Turned  Lesson 

Leaning  over  the  Waterfall, 

The  Seed  of  a  Song, 

Finis, 


DATE.  WHERE  WRITTEN, 

May  13,  1855,  Areley  Wood, 

May,  1857,  Hereford, 

Sept.,  1874,  Ormont  Dessous, 

Feb.  9,  1877,  Leamington, 

Feb.  18,  1879,  Caswell  Bay, 

Sept.,  1877,  The     Highlands, 
Herefordshire, 

Nov.,  1872,  Leamington, 


Nov,  18,  1877,  Leamington, 
Dec.,  1853,        Cople, 
1864, 

July  22,  1872,  Llanberris,  . 
Mar.  28,  1876,  Leamington, 
May,  1874, 

Jan.  21,  1878,  Leamington, 
July  23,  1858, 


TAGE 

204 

■    205 

.     207 

.      20Q 


213 

215 
216 
218 
221 
223 
224 
225 
227 
229 
232 


CHARADES  AND  ENIGMAS. 
Answers  to  Enigmas. 


0.    I.  Needles. 

No.  12.  Spring. 

,,      2.  Lines. 

,,    13.  Lock. 

,,     3.  Table. 

,,    14,   Pole. 

,,      4.  Trunk. 

,,    15.   Ice. 

„     5.  Sere,  Seir, 

seer,  sear(ed). 

,,    16.  Gas. 

„     6.  MaHce. 

,,    17.  Shadow. 

,,     7.  Scrape,  crape 

ape. 

„    18,  Arch. 

,,     8.   Bacon. 

,,    19.   Melodies. 

„     9.  Lava. 

,,    20.  A  Riddle 

,,    10.  Ball. 

,,    21.  Wheels. 

,,    11.   Box. 

Answers  t 

0  Charades. 

0.  I.  Cutlass. 

No.  3.  Carpet. 

,,    2.  Orion. 

„    4.   Ivanhoe. 

INDEX. 


No.    5.  Iceland. 

6.  Hemlock. 

7.  Wordsworth. 

8.  Harebell 

9.  Parsonage. 

10.  Palmerston. 

11.  Larkspur. 


'  N 


o.  li.  Sunday. 

,  13.  Nightingale. 

,  14.  Bargain. 

,  15.  Gentleman. 

,  16.  Rampart. 

,  17.  Dande(y)lion. 

,  18.  Gladstone. 


CHILDREN'S  CHORDS. 


TITLE. 

DATE. 

WHERE  WRITTEN. 

PAGE 

Sunday  Bells,    . 

Oct.  18,  1869, 

... 

•     273 

Flowers 

„     16,     ,, 

... 

•     274 

Evening  Prayer, 

.      17.       .. 

, 

•     27s 

Stars,         .... 

.      18,       .. 

.     276 

My  Little  Tree, 

,      22,       ,, 

... 

.     277 

Thy  Kingdom  Come, 

.      22,       ,, 

.     278 

The  Moon, 

,       21,       ,, 

•     279 

Jessie's  Friend, 

■       19.       .. 

•     279 

The  Bower, 

,       21,        ,, 

... 

.     280 

Trust 

.       23         .. 

... 

.     281 

The  Dying  Sister, 

.       23.        ., 

... 

.     282 

The  Angels'  Song,     . 

.       24,        ., 

... 

•     283 

Who  will  take  Care  of  Me  ? 

Jan.  I,  1873, 

... 

.     284 

Something  to  Do, 

Feb.  12,  1877, 

... 

.     285 

Loving  Messages, 

1878, 

... 

.     291 

F.  R.  H.'s  Thanks    to  her 

Bible-Class,  . 

Mar.  23,  1858, 

•  a.                                    * 

•     293 

F.  R.   H.'s  Thanks  to  C. 

Overton, 

1871, 

*••                                    • 

.     294 

Inscription  in  '  Life's  Morn- 

ing,'      .... 

1861. 

>>  .                                    • 

•     294 

Little  Nora, 

Dec,  1856, 

... 

•     295 

'  Come  over  and  help  us," 

1856. 

... 

•     299 

The  English  Child's  Reply, 

1856, 

•     300 

The    Disappointed    Carol 

Singers, 

1855. 

•     302 

The    Happiest    Christmas 

Day 

1872, 

Perry 

Barr, 

•     303 

Coming  into  the  Shade,    . 

0 

ct..  1875, 

Upton 

Bishop,     . 

•     304 

xvi 

INDEX. 

TITLE. 

DATE. 

WHERE  WRITTEN. 

PAGE 

Begin  at  Once,  . 

May,  1876, 

•     306 

'That's  not  the  Way  at  Sea, ' 

1876, 

Leamington, 

•     307 

Welcome  to  Winterdyne, . 

Dec,  15,  1866, 

Oakhampton, 

.     308 

To  Jericho  and  Back, 

Dec,  1868, 

Winterdyne, 

•     310 

My  Nest 

Aug.,  1869, 

Do. 

.     315 

Ethelbert's  *  Coming  Home 

in  the  Dark,'. 

July  27,  1874, 

Towyn, 

•     316 

SONGS. 


National  Hymn, 

1873, 

Switzerland, 

321 

Scotland's    Welcome      to 

H.R.H.  Princess  Louise, 

March,  1871, 

...                   •         . 

323 

Severn  Song, 

1873, 

.         . 

324 

For  Charity, 

Sept.,  1874, 

Ormont  Dessous, 

325 

The  Devonshire  Yeoman's 

Song,     .... 

1872, 

326 

The  Dawn  of  May,    . 

May  13,  1855, 

Oakhampton, 

327 

The  Tyrolese  Spring  Song, 

1859. 

... 

328 

My  Messengers, 

1859, 

329 

God  keep  Thee, 

Nov.  26,  1872, 

Leamington, 

330 

Rose  of  Roses, . 

Do. 

Do. 

331 

Hast  Thou  a  Thought  ?    . 

Do. 

Do. 

332 

My  Welcome,  . 

186s, 

... 

332 

A  Wife's  Letter, 

Jan.   12,  1869, 

Leamington, 

333 

The  Husband's  Reply, 

• 

335 

Only  for  One,    . 

Jan.   18,  1869, 

Leamington, 

335 

One  for  the  Other,     . 

Nov.,  1870, 

• 

336 

Thinking       together,      or 

Gravitation,    . 

1869, 

• 

337 

There    is    Music    by    the 

River,     .... 

1874, 

•.  *                   " 

338 

'  The  Shining  Light,' 

July,  1870, 

340 

Golden  Land,    . 

Sept.  15, 1876, 

Pension  Wengen, 

341 

Twilight  Voices, 

Nov.,  1874, 
HYMNS. 

Leamington, 

•     341 

Prayer  before  Church, 

1849, 

••« 

345 

A  Prayer, .... 

1849, 

... 

345 

INDEX. 


xvu 


TITLE. 

DATE. 

WHERE  WRITTEN. 

PAGE 

Thoughts, 

1850, 

.      346 

'  He  that  Overcometh,' 

1856, 

•     347 

A  Song  of  Welcome, 

Nov.  22,  1857, 

Worcester,   . 

•     34S 

'  The  Lord  is  Gracious,'    . 

1858, 

... 

•     349 

'  The    Spirit     proceeding 

from  the  Father,'    . 

1872, 

... 

•     350 

New  Year  Hymn, 

1872, 

... 

•     350 

Hymn  for  Ireland,     . 

1873, 

... 

•     352 

Church  Missionary  Jubilee 

Good    Friday, 

Hymn,  .... 

1877, 

Leamington, 

•     353 

Thy  Father  waits  for  Thee, 

Dec.  21,  1873, 

Winterdyne, 

■     354 

Will  You  not  come  ? . 

Do. 

Do. 

•     355 

What  will  You  do  without 

Him?    .... 

April  9,   1876, 

The  Leasowes,     . 

•     357 

'  Forgiven  —  even       until 

Now,'    .         . 

Sept.  15,  1878, 

Plymouth,    . 

•     360 

He  hath  done  it ! 

Dec.  3,  1878, 

Caswell  Bay, 

•     362 

Asking,      .... 

Dec.  5,  1878, 

Do. 

•     363 

Love  for  Love, . 

Feb.  12,  1879, 

Do. 

•    364 

Nothing  to  Pay, 

April,  1879, 

Do, 

•    365 

CHRISTMAS  VERSES. 


A  Merrie  Christmas, 

.     Oct.,  1875, 

Whitby, 

.     369 

A  Happy  Christmas, 

.     May,  1877, 

Winterdyne. 

■     369 

Our    Saviour    Christ 

was 

bom. 

.     May,  1877, 

Do. 

•     370 

Christmas  Gifts, 

.     May,  1877, 

Do. 

.     371 

Christmas  Mottoes,  . 

1877, 

.•• 

■     372 

Christmas  Gifts, 

... 

374 

Christmas  Sunshine, 

.     Dec.  25,  1878, 

... 

■     375 

Titles  of  Christ, 

1877. 

... 

•     379 

NEW  YEAR  VERSES. 

A  Happy  Now  Year  to  You,              1874, 

Winterdyne, 

.     385 

Another  Year,   . 

1874. 

... 

•      385 

Faithful  Promises,     . 

.    Jan.  3,  1873, 

... 

•      386 

New  Year's  Wishes, 

.     Sept.,  1874, 

Ormont  Dessous 

.      388 

A  Happy  New  Year, 

1874, 

Winterdyne, 

■      389 

New  Year  Mottoes, 

1876-1879, 
h 

... 

•     390 

jtvin 


INDEX. 


EASTER  ECHOES. 


TITLE. 

Easter  Echoes, 


DATE.  WHERE   WRITTEN.  PAGE 

Sept.,  1876,         Lauterbrunnen,  .         .     399 


BIRTHDAY  POEMS. 


Acrostic :  Cecilia  Havergal, 
Acrostic  :  Edith  Havergal, 
Acrostic  for  E.  P.  S., 
Mizpah  Messages, 
Birthday  Mottoes, 
To   M.    V.    G.   H.  on  lier 

Birthday, 
M.  L.  C.'s  Birthday  Crown, 
ToJ.  H.  C,      . 
For  E.  Clay's  Birthday,     . 
Coming  of  Age, 
To  the  Rev.  C.  B.  Snepp, 
Saturday  Night, 


1875. 

•  ••                          r 

■     403 

187s, 

... 

.     404 

1863, 

•     404 

1878, 

•     405 

1877-1878. 

.     406 

Nov.,  1877, 

•     409 

July  II,  1859, 

Oakhampton,     . 

.     410 

Nov.  27,  1856, 

... 

•     4" 

Feb.,  1863, 

413 

Sept.  26,  1865, 

Celbridge,  . 

414 

Sept.,  1871, 

Perry  Barr, 

415 

April,  1873, 

Do.       . 

,     416 

SONNETS. 


A  Waking  Thought, 
Life  Mosaic, 
To  Helga, 
Memorial  Names, 
Our  Red-Letter  Days 
Luke  i.Y.  13, 


i85o, 

April  I,   1876,   Leamington, 

Sept.  19,  1876,  Charapfery,  . 

May  13,  1877,  Winterdyne, 

Do.  Do. 


421 
421 
422 
423 
423 
424 


IN  MEMORIAM. 


My  Mother's  Request,  .  Feb.  6,  1854, 

May  Dirge,         .         .  .             1854, 

To     F.     M.     G.     on  her 

Brother's  Death,      .  .             1854, 


427 
429 

432 


INDEX. 


XIX 


TITLE. 

Evelyn 

Starlight  through  the 
Shadows, 

In  Loyal  and  Loving  Re- 
membrance of  H.R.H, 
Princess  Alice, 


DATE.  WHERE  WRITTEN.  PAGE 

April  6,  1 363,   Leamington,         .         .     434 
1877.  ...  .         .     433 


Dec,  23,  1878,  Caswell  Bay,         .         .     44a 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


TITLE. 

DATE. 

WHERE  WRITTEN. 

PAGE 

Prelude,    . 

June  30,  1872, 

Leamington, 

443 

Under  the  Surface,    . 

Dec.  13,  1869, 

Do.              .  .         . 

444 

Autobiography, 

May,  1869, 

.         . 

446 

Compensation,  . 

Oct.  23,  1873, 

... 

451 

The  Moonlight  Sonata, 

March,  1869, 

Leamington, 

454 

The  Infinity  of  God, 

1872, 

Perry  Barr, 

475 

The  Spirituality  of  God, 

1872, 

Do. 

476 

The  Eternity  of  God, 

Feb.  IX,  1872, 

Do. 

476 

The  Sovereignty  of  God, 

1872, 

Do. 

477 

The  Essential  Blessednes; 

of  God, . 

Feb.,  1872, 

Do. 

478 

Thine  is  the  Power,  . 

May  14,  1872, 

Winterdyne, 

479 

The  One  Reality, 

Jan.  I,  1870, 

Leamington, 

485 

To  Thee,  . 

June,  1870, 

...                   . 

48s 

Confidence, 

Sept.  26, 1870, 

... 

487 

I  could  not  do  without  The 

e,  May  7,  1873, 

487 

Jesus  only. 

Dec.  4,  1870, 

Leamjngton, 

489 

Is  it  for  me  ?      . 

Nov.  18,  1871, 

Perry  Barr, 

490 

Hidden  in  Light, 

July  6,  1872, 

Harlech, 

491 

He  is  Thy  Lord, 

.    Jan.  5,  1873, 

492 

Our  King, 

Nov,,  1870, 

495 

Ascension  Song, 

Dec,  1871, 

496 

Advent  Song,    . 

Nov.  16,  1873, 

Winterdyne, 

497 

Have  you  not  a  Word, 

Nov.,  1871, 

Perry  Barr, 

503 

A  Worker's  Prayer,  . 

April  28,  1872, 

Winterdyne, 

506 

Our  Commission, 

.     March,  1869, 

Leamington, 

507 

Singing  for  Jesus, 

.     June  12,  1872, 

Winterdyne, 

•     510 

A  Silence  and  a  Song, 

Mar,  16,  1871, 

Leeds, 

•     511 

The  Coming  of  the  Healer 

Oct.  3,  1873, 

... 

513 

XX 

INDEX. 

TITLE. 

DATE. 

WHERE  WRITTEN. 

PAGE 

Another  for  Christ,    . 

June  30,  1872, 

Leamington, 

S16 

'  How  Wonderful ! '  . 

Aug.  30,  1873, 

Oakham  p  ton. 

518 

Valiant  for  the  Truth, 

Sept.  23,  1872, 

Perry  Barr, 

SI9 

A  Plea  for  the  Little  Ones 

April  2,  1872, 

521 

TeU  it  Out. 

April  21,  1872, 

Winterdyne, 

526 

Sisters, 

April  4,  1873, 

... 

527 

An  Indian  Flag, 

1873. 

528 

The  Lull  of  Eternity, 

July  19,  1872, 

The  Pass  of  Llan- 

berris. 

531 

The  Sowers, 

Feb.  19,  1872, 

Perry  Barr, 

533 

Everlasting  Blessings, 

Aug.  12,  1871, 

Do. 

551 

Accepted, . 

Sept.  3,  1870, 

Hastings,     . 

552 

Fresh  Springs,  . 

Aug.,  1870, 

553 

Faithful  Promises,     .    ' 

Jan.  4,  1873, 

554 

The  Faithful  Comforter, 

Aug.  II,  1872, 

Perry  Barr, 

556 

Under  His  Shadow,  . 

Nov.  27,  1870, 

•  ••                                       " 

557 

Covenant  Blessings,  . 

1871, 

•  .  *                                       • 

558 

The  Triune  Presence, 

.     Sept.,  1871, 

Perry  Barr, 

559 

Now  and  Afterward, 

Jan.  4,  1870, 

Leamington, 

563 

Tempted  and  Tried, 

Mar.  2,  1873, 

Perry  Barr, 

564 

Not  Forsaken,  . 

Sept.  14,  1869, 

...                                                          6 

565 

Listening  in  Darkness, 

June  10,  1869, 

Interlachen, 

566 

Evening  Tears, 

June  19,  1869, 

Interlachen, 

567 

Peaceable  Fruit, 

May,  1872, 

Winterdyne, 

568 

Right! 

June  18,  1872, 

Leamington, 

569 

The  Col  de  Balm,      . 

Aug.  II,  1869, 

London, 

578 

'  Eye  hath  not  Seen,' 

Feb.  20,  1869, 

Leamington, 

579 

Chosen  in  Christ, 

.     April  6,  1871, 

Perry  Barr, 

58s 

CaUed,      . 

1872, 

Do. 

586 

Justified,   . 

.     May,  1871, 

Do. 

587 

Sanctified, 

1873, 

. 

588 

Joined  to  Christ, 

.     May,  1871, 

Perry  Barr, 

589 

Presented  Faultless,  . 

.     May,  1871, 

Do. 

590 

Glorified,  . 

.     Oct.  22,  1871, 

Do. 

591 

The  Message  of  an  .(Eoliai 

1 

Harp,     . 

Nov.,  i86g, 

Leamington, 

595 

Baby's  Turn,     . 

Sept.,  1869, 

Worcester,  . 

604 

The  Children's  Triumph, 

.     Mar.  29,  1873, 

PeiTy  Barr, 

.     606 

The  First  Smile, 

.     Feb.  17,  1871, 

Oakhampton, 

607 

The  Sunday  Book,    . 

Oct.  5,  1872, 

... 

608 

INDEX. 

KXi 

TITLE. 

DATE. 

WHERE  WRITTEN. 

PAGE 

Amy 

Nov.,  1872, 

Perry  Barr, 

6og 

'  It  is  v;ell  with  the  Child,' 

Dec.  II,  1870, 

Leamington, 

610 

At  Home  To-night,  . 

Dec.  19,  1872, 

Perry  Barr, 

611 

Two  Rings, 

1870, 

... 

613 

Bells  across  the  Snow, 

1870, 

Oakham  pton, 

619 

Singing  at  Sunset,     . 

May  21,  1872, 

Winterdyne, 

620 

Heather  Lintie, 

Jan.  12,  1870, 

Leamington, 

621 

Sunbeam  and  Dewdrop, 

Nov.,  1870, 

... 

623 

Dream-Singing, 

March,  1869, 

624 

She  Waits  for  Me,     . 

Mar.  6,  1873, 

625 

The  Mountain  Maidens, 

July,  1873, 

Switzerland, 

629 

A  Seeing  Heart, 

May  10,  1872, 

Winterdyne, 

64s 

July  on  the  Mountains, 

July  24,  1872, 

Snowdon,    . 

647 

My  Window,    . 

Dec,  1869, 

Leamington, 

648 

Candlemas  Day, 

.     Feb.  I,  1869, 

...                   • 

650 

Now! 

Sept.,  1869, 

Winterdyne, 

651 

Light  at  Eventide,     . 

July  12,  1873, 

Harlech, 

656 

Yet  Speaketh,   . 

.     Easter,  1872, 

658 

For  New  Year's  Day,  1874 

,     Dec.  23,  1873, 

Winterdyne, 

660 

Finis, 

.    June  18,  1872, 

Leamington, 

.     664 

LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


Consecration  Hymn, 

Feb.  4,  1874, 

Arelcy  House, 

.     669 

Set  Apart, 

Feb.  24,  1878, 

Leamington, 

.     670 

Secret  of  a  Happy  Day,    . 

Jan.   20,   1878, 

Do. 

672 

The  Unfailing  One,  . 

Jan.   19,   1878, 

Do. 

•     67s 

On  the  Lord's  Side,  . 

Oct.,  1877, 

•    (m 

True  -  hearted,       Whole- 

hearted, 

Sept.,  1874, 

Ormont  Dessous 

.    680 

By  Thy  Cross  and  Passion, 

Jan.,  1877, 

Leamington, 

.    682 

The  Opened  Fountain, 

March,  1878, 

Do. 

.    684 

The  Precious  Blood, 

Sept.,  1874, 

Ormont  Dessous 

.     686 

I  remember  Thee,     . 

Dec.  9,  1877, 

Leamington, 

.     687 

Knowing, 

Sept.  24,  1877, 

The     Highlands 

Herefordshire, 

.     690 

Trusting  Jesus, 

Sept.,  1874, 

Ormont  Dessous 

.     692 

Looking  unto  Jesus, 

1876. 

... 

•      693 

Shining,     .         .         .         . 

Sept.,  1874, 

Ormont  Dessous 

•      694 

Growing,  .         .         .         . 

April  12,  1876 

The  Leasowes, 

.     699 

XXll 


INDEX. 


riiLE. 

DATE. 

WHERE    WRITTEN.           PAGE 

Resting,              ... 

June  II,  1876, 

... 

,     700 

Filling,      .... 

May  5,  1876, 

... 

.     701 

Increase  our  Faith,    . 

Oct.  5,  1875, 

Whitby,       . 

,     703 

Nobody  knows  but  Jesus, 

Nov.,  1877, 

Leamington, 

.     705 

He  is  thy  Life,  . 

June  2,  1876, 

.     708 

Enough,    .         .         .         , 

Sept.,  1874, 

Ormont  Dessous 

709 

All,  .                  .         ,         . 

1874, 

... 

.     7" 

Only 

Aug.,  1877, 

The     Highlands 

Herefordshire, 

.     712 

My  Master, 

July  16,  1876, 

Fins  Haut,  . 

.     714 

Perfect  Peace,  . 

Nov.  3,  1874, 

Leamington, 

.     716 

'I  am  with  thee,' 

June  30,  1876, 

...                  * 

.     717 

Trust  and  Distrust.  . 

March  9, 1878, 

Leamington, 

.     7^9 

Without  Carefulness, 

Sept.  27,  1875, 

Whitby.       . 

720 

Thy  Reign,        . 

March  29, 1874,  Oakhampton, 

.     l^h 

Tried,  Precious,  Sure, 

Nov.,  1876, 

Leamington, 

.     727 

Just  when  Thou  wilt, 

Nov.  3,  1874, 

Do. 

.     728 

VERSES  ON  TEXTS. 


Verses  on  Texts, 

•         • 

1877, 

A  Covenant,      . 

0 

July,  1876, 

Only  for  Jesus, . 

. 

July,  1877, 

Chosen  Lessons, 

, 

1878, 

Hitherto  and  Henceforth, 

1877, 

Rhymed  Mottoes  for 

Open- 

Air  Mission,  . 

. 

1874-1879, 

Advent  Thoughts, 

. 

1877. 

Newport 


733 
739 
740 
740 
740 

741 
743 


^  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW.' 


An  Interlude,    .         .         .     Sept.  11,  1877,  The     Highlands, 

Herefordshire,  . 
Zenith,      ....  Do.  Do. 

The  Thoughts  of  God,      .     Sept.  1874,  Ormont  Dessous, 
The  Ministry  cf  Interces-) 

sion, 

'Free  to  Serve,'         .         .     Jan.  21,   1876,  Leamington, 

Coming  to  the  King,         .     Oct.  9,  1876,  Winterdyne, 


-)  ^  fThe     Highlands,) 

.  j"  S^P^-  ^'  ^^77.  I     Herefordshire,   i 


747 
748 
768 

782 

788 
791 


INDEX. 


TITLE. 

DATE. 

WHERE   WRITTEN. 

PAGE 

Reality,     .... 

Oct.  14,  1875, 

Whitby, 

•      793 

Far  More  Exceeding, 

April,  1876, 

... 

•      797 

'  The  Splendour  of  God's 

Will.'     .         .         .         . 

Sept.,  1874, 

Ormont  Dessous, 

.      800 

The  Two  Paths, 

Jan.  3,  1878, 

Leamington, 

.      804 

Sunday  Night, 

Mar.  19,  1876, 

Do. 

.      807 

Precious  Things, 

Sept.,  1874, 

Ormont  Dessous, 

.      808 

'Afterwards,'    . 

Oct.  4,  1875, 

Whitby,       . 

.      814 

'  Vessels  of  Mercy,'    . 

Nov.,  1878, 

Caswell  Bay, 

.      8i6 

Seulement  pour  Toi, 

July  23,  1876, 

Fins  Haut, 

818 

A  Song  in  the  Night, 

Oct.  8,  1876, 

Pension  Wengen, 

.      Big 

The  Voiceof  Many  Waters, 

Jan.   18,  1878, 

Leamington, 

821 

The  Key  Found, 

Dec  14,  1878, 

Caswell  Bay, 

S27 

CLOSING  CHORDS. 


What  Thou  Wilt,      . 

Nov.  29,  1878, 

Caswell  Bay, 

Flope 

1878, 

Fear  Not, 

Leeds, 

The   Scripture  Cannot   be 

Broken, 

April,  1879, 

Caswell  Bay, 

He  Suffered, 

March  6,  1879, 

Do. 

Behold  your  King,    . 

Good    Friday, 

1879, 

Do. 

An  Easter  Prayer,     . 

Feb.  12,  1879, 

Do. 

Easter  Dawn,    . 

Easter      Sun- 

day, 1879, 

Do. 

Unfinished  Fr.igments, 

May,  1879, 

Do. 

Most  Blessed  for  Ever,     . 

1870, 

•  •• 

833 
834 

S35 

836 
837 

837 
839 

840 
840 
842 


The  Ministry  of  Song. 


THE 

MINISTRY    OF     SONG. 


Iprclu^e. 

Amid  the  broken  waters  of  our  ever-restless  thought, 

Oh  be  my  verse  an  answering  gleam  from  higher  radiance 

caught ; 
That  where  through  dark  o'erarching  boughs  of  sorrow, 

doubt,  and  sin. 
The  glorious  Star  of  Bethlehem  upon  the  flood  looks  in, 
Its   tiny  trembling   ray  may  bid   some   downcast   vision 

turn 
To  that  enkindling  Light,  for  which  all  earthly  shadows 

yearn. 
Oh   be  my  verse  a  hidden  stream,   which    silently  may 

flow 
Where  drooping  leaf  and  thirsty  flower  in  lonely  valleys 

grow ; 
And    often   by  its    shady   course    to   pilgrim   hearts   be 

brought 
The    quiet     and     refreshment    of    an     upward-pointing 

thought; 
Till,  blending  with  the  broad  bright  stream  of  sanctified 

endeavour, 
God's  glory  be  its  ocean  home,  the  end  it  seeketh  ever. 

8 


4  THE  MINISTR  Y  OF  SONG. 


In  God's  great  field  of  labour 

All  work  is  not  the  same ; 
He  hath  a  service  for  each  one 

Who  loves  His  holy  name. 
And  you,  to  whom  the  secrets 

Of  all  sweet  sounds  are  known, 
Rise  up  !  for  He  hath  called  you 

To  a  mission  of  your  own. 
And,  rightly  to  fulfil  it, 

His  grace  can  make  you  strong, 
Who  to  your  charge  hath  given 

The  Ministry  of  Song. 

Sing  to  the  little  children, 

And  they  will  listen  well ; 
Sing  grand  and  holy  music. 

For  they  can  feel  its  spell. 
Tell  them  the  tale  of  ; 

Then  sing  them  what  he  said, — 
*  Deeper  and  deeper  still,'  and  watch 

How  the  little  cheek  grows  red, 
And  the  little  breath  comes  quicker  : 

They  will  ne'er  forget  the  tale. 
Which  the  song  has  fastened  surely, 

As  with  a  golden  nail. 

I  remember,  late  one  evening. 

How  the  music  stopped,  for,  hark ! 

Charlie's  nursery  door  was  open, 
He  was  calling  in  the  dark, — 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


'  Oh  no  !  I  am  not  frightened, 

And  I  do  not  want  a  light  ; 
But  I  cannot  sleep  for  thinking 

Of  the  song  you  sang  last  night. 
Something  about  a  "  valley," 

And  "  make  rough  places  plain," 
And  "  Comfort  ye ; "  so  beautiful ! 

Oh,  sing  it  me  again  ! ' 

Sing  at  the  cottage  bedside ; 

They  have  no  music  there, 
And  the  voice  of  praise  is  silent 

After  the  voice  of  prayer. 
Sing  of  the  gentle  Saviour 

In  the  simplest  hymns  you  know, 
And  the  pain-dimmed  eye  will  brighten 

As  the  soothing  verses  flow. 
Better  than  loudest  plaudits 

The  murmured  thanks  of  such. 
For  the  King  will  stoop  to  crown  them 

With  His  gracious  '  Inasmuch.' 

Sing,  where  the  full-toned  organ 

Resounds  through  aisle  and  nave. 
And  the  choral  praise  ascendeth 

In  concord  sweet  and  grave. 
Sing,  where  the  village  voices 

Fall  harshly  on  your  ear  ; 
And,  while  more  earnestly  you  join, 

Less  discord  you  will  hear. 
The  noblest  and  the  humblest 

Alike  arc  '  common  praise,' 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


And  not  for  human  ear  alone 
The  psalm  and  hymn  we  raise. 

Sing  in  the  deepening  twilight, 

When  the  shadow  of  eve  is  nigh, 
And  her  purple  and  golden  pinions 

Fold  o'er  the  western  sky. 
Sing  in  the  silver  silence, 

While  the  first  moonbeams  fall ; 
So  shall  your  power  be  greater 

Over  the  hearts  of  all. 
Sing  till  you  bear  them  with  you 

Into  a  holy  calm, 
And  the  sacred  tones  have  scattered 

Manna,  and  myrrh,  and  balm. 

Sing !  that  your  song  may  gladden ; 

Sing  like  the  happy  rills, 
Leaping  in  sparkling  blessing 

Fresh  from  the  breezy  hills. 
Sing  !  that  your  song  may  silence 

The  folly  and  the  jest. 
And  the  '  idle  word '  be  banished 

As  an  unwelcome  guest. 
Sing !  that  your  song  may  echo 

After  the  strain  is  past, 
A  link  of  the  love-wrought  cable 

That  holds  some  vessel  fast. 

Sing  to  the  tired  and  anxious 
It  is  yours  to  fling  a  ray, 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


Passing  indeed,  but  cheering, 

Across  the  rugged  way. 
Sing  to  God's  holy  servants, 

Weary  with  loving  toil, 
Spent  with  their  faithful  labour 

On  oft  ungrateful  soil. 
The  chalice  of  your  music 

All  reverently  bear, 
For  with  the  blessed  angels 

Such  ministry  you  share. 

When  you  long  to  bear  the  Message 

Home  to  some  troubled  breast, 
Then  sing  with  loving  fervour, 

'  Come  unto  Him,  and  rest' 
Or  would  you  whisper  comfort. 

Where  words  bring  no  relief, 
Sing  how  '  He  was  despised, 

Acquainted  with  our  grief.' 
And,  aided  by  His  blessing, 

The  song  may  win  its  way 
Where  speech  had  no  admittance, 

And  change  the  night  to  day. 

Sing,  when  His  mighty  mescies 

And  marvellous  love  you  feel, 
And  the  deep  joy  of  gratitude 

Springs  freshly  as  you  kneel ; 
When  words,  like  morning  starlight, 

Melt  powerless, — rise  and  sing  ! 
And  bring  your  sweetest  music 

To  Him.  your  gracious  King. 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


Pour  out  your  song  before  Him 

To  whom  our  best  is  due ; 
Remember,  He  who  hears  your  prayer 

Will  hear  your  praises  too. 

Sing  on  in  grateful  gladness  ! 

Rejoice  in  this  good  thing 
Which  the  Lord  thy  God  hath  given  thee. 

The  happy  power  to  sing. 
But  yield  to  Him,  the  Sovereign, 

To  whom  all  gifts  belong. 
In  fullest  consecration, 

Your  Ministry  of  Song, 
Until  His  mercy  grant  you 

That  resurrection  voice. 
Whose  only  ministry  shall  be, 

To  praise  Him  and  rejoice. 


Oh  the  hidden  leaves  of  Life  ! 

Closely  folded  in  the  heart ; 
Leaves  where  Memory's  golden  finger. 
Slowly  pointing,  loves  to  linger ; 

Leaves  that  bid  the  old  tears  start. 

Leaves  where  Hope  would  read  the  future, 
Sibylline,  and  charged  with  fate  : 

Leaves  which  calm  Submission  closeth, 

While  her  tearless  eye  reposeth 
On  the  legend,  '  Trust,  and  wait ! ' 


OUR  HIDDEN  LEA  VES. 


Leaves  which  grave  Experience  ponders, 

Soundings  for  her  pilot-charts ; 
Leaves  which  God  Himself  is  storing, 
Records  which  we  read,  adoring 
Him  who  -writes  on  human  hearts. 

All  our  own,  our  treasured  secrets, 

Indestructible  archives ! 
None  can  copy,  none  can  steal  them, 
Death  itself  shall  not  reveal  them. 

Sacred  manuscripts  of  lives. 

Some  are  filled  with  fairy  pictures, 
Half  imagined  and  half  seen  ; 

Radiant  faces,  fretted  towers, 

Sunset  colours,  starry  flowers, 
Wondrous  arabesques  between. 

Some  are  traced  with  liquid  sunbeams, 
Some  with  fire,  and  some  with  tears ; 
Some  with  crimson  dyes  are  glowing. 
From  a  smitten  life-rock  flowing 
Through  the  wilderness  of  years. 

Some  are  crossed  with  later  writing, 

Palimpsests  of  earliest  days ; 
Old  remembrance  faintly  gleaming 
Through  the  thinking  and  the  dreaming 
Outlines  dim  in  noontide  haze. 

One  lies  open,  all  unwritten, 
To  the  glance  of  careless  sight ', 


ro  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Yet  it  bears  a  shining  story, 
Traced  in  phosphorescent  glory, 
Only  legible  by  night. 

One  is  dark  with  hieroglyphics 

Of  some  dynasty  of  grief : 
Only  God,  and  just  one  other, 
Dearest  friend,  or  truest  brother, 
Ever  read  that  hidden  leaf. 

Many  a  leaf  is  undeciphered, 

Writ  in  languages  unknown ; 
O'er  the  strange  inscription  bending, 
(Every  clue  in  darkness  ending,) 
Finding  no  '  Rosetta  Stone,' 

Still  we  study,  always  failing  ! 

God  can  read  it,  we  must  wait ; 
Wait,  until  He  teach  the  mystery, 
Then  the  wisdom-woji^en  history 

Faith  shall  read,  and  Love  translate 

Leaflets  now  unpaged  and  scattered 

Time's  great  library  receives ; 
When  eternity  shall  bind  them, 
Golden  volumes  we  shall  find  them, 
God's  light  falling  on  the  leaves. 


THREEFOLD  PRAISE.  II 

Xi:breetol&  praise. 

Haydn — Mendelssohn — Handel. 

'  We  bless  Thee  for  our  creation,  preservation,  and  all  the  blessings  of 
this  life  ;  but  above  all,  for  Thine  inestimable  love  in  the  redemption  of  the 
world  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.' 

PART   I. 

'  We  bless  Thee  for  our  creation.' 

Haydn's  '  Creation.' 

What  is  the  first  and  simplest  praise, 

The  universal  debt, 
Which  yet  the  thoughtless  heart  of  man 

So  quickly  may  forget  ? 
'  We  bless  Thee  for  creation  ! ' 

So  taught  the  noble  band 
Who  left  a  sound  and  holy  form, 

For  ages  yet  to  stand, 
Rich  legacy  of  praise  and  prayer, 

Laid  up  through  ages  past, 
Strong  witness  for  the  truth  of  God  : 

Oh,  may  we  hold  it  fast ! 

'  We  bless  Thee  for  creation  ! ' 

So  are  we  blithely  taught 
By  Haydn's  joyous  spirit ; 

Such  was  the  praise  he  brought 
A  praise  all  morning  sunshine, 

And  sparklets  of  the  spring, 
O'er  which  the  long  life-shadows 

No  chastening  softness  fling. 


12  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

A  praise  of  early  freshness, 

Of  carol  and  of  trill, 
Re-echoing  all  the  music 

Of  valley  and  of  rill. 
A  praise  that  we  are  sharing 

With  every  singing  breeze, 
With  nightingales  and  linnets, 

With  waterfalls  and  trees ; 
With  anthems  of  the  flowers 

Too  dehcate  and  sweet 
For  all  their  fairy  minstrelsy 

Our  mortal  ears  to  greet. 

A  mighty  song  of  blessing 

Archangels  too  uplift, 
For  their  own  bright  existence, 

A  grand  and  glorious  gift. 
But  such  their  full  life-chalice. 

So  sparkling  and  so  pure. 
And  such  their  vivid  sense  of  joy 

Sweet,  solid,  and  secure. 
We  cannot  write  the  harmonies 

To  such  a  song  of  bliss. 
We  only  catch  the  melody, 

And  sing,  content  with  this. 

We  are  but  little  children, 
And  earth  a  broken  toy ; 

We  do  not  know  the  treasures 
In  our  Father's  house  of  joy 

Thanksgivings  for  creation 
We  ignorantly  raise ; 


THREEFOLD  PRAISE.  13 


We  know  not  yet  the  thousandth  part 
Of  that  for  which  we  praise. 

Yet,  praise  Him  for  creation  ! 

Nor  cease  the  happy  song, 
But  this  our  Hallelujah 

Through  all  our  life  prolong  ; 
'T  will  mingle  with  the  chorus 

Before  the  heavenly  throne, 
Where  what  it  truly  is  to  be 

Shall  first  be  fully  known. 


PART   II. 

• .  .  .  preservation,  and  all  the  blessings  of  this  life,* 
Mendelssohn's  'Elijah.' 

O  Felix  !  happy  in  thy  varied  store 
Of  harmonies  undreamt  before. 

How  different  was  the  gift 

Of  praise  't  was  thine  to  pour, 
Whether  in  stately  calm,  or  tempest  strong  and  swift ! 

Mark  the  day, 
In  mourning  robe  of  grey, 
Of  shrouded  mountain  and  of  storm-swept  vale, 
And  purple  pall  spread  o'er  the  distance  pale, 

While  thunderous  masses  wildly  drift 
In  lurid  gloom  and  grandeur :  then  a  swift 
And  dazzling  ray  bursts  through  a  sudden  rift  ; 
The  dark  waves  glitter  as  the  storms  subside, 
And  all  is  light  and  glory  at  the  eventide. 


14  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


O  sunlight  of  thanksgiving  !     Who  that  knows 
Its  bright  forth-breaking  after  dreariest  days, 

Would  change  the  after-thought  of  woes 

For  memory's  loveliest  light  that  glows, 
If  so  he  must  forego  one  note  of  that  sweet  praise  ? 

For  not  the  song 
Which  knows  no  minor  cadence,  sad  and  long  ] 

And  not  the  tide 
Whose  emerald  and  silver  pride 
Was  never  dashed  in  wild  and  writhing  fray. 
Where  grim  and  giant  rocks  hurl  back  the  spray ; 
And  not  the  crystal  atmosphere, 
That  carves  each  outline  sharp  and  clear 
Upon  a  sapphire  sky  :  not  these,  not  these. 
Nor  aught  existing  but  to  charm  and  please. 
Without  acknowledging  life's  mystery, 
And  all  the  mighty  reign 
Of  yearning  and  of  pain 
That  fills  its  half-read  history, 
Fit  music  can  supply 
To  lift  the  wandering  heart  on  high 
To  that  Preserving  Love,  which  rules  all  change. 
And  gives  '  all  blessings  of  this  life,'  so  dream-like  and  so 
strange. 

•  And  his  was  praise 
Deeper  and  truer,  such  as  those  may  raise 
Who  know  both  shade  and  sunlight,  and  whose  life 
Hath  learnt  victorious  strife 
Of  courage  and  of  trust  and  hope  still  dear. 
With  passion  and  with  grief,  with  danger  and  with  fear. 


THREEFOLD  PRAISE.  1$ 

Upriseth  now  a  cry, 
Plaintive  and  piercing,  to  the  brazen  sky  : 
Help,  Lord !  the  harvest  days  are  gone ; 
Help,  Lord  !  for  other  help  is  none ; 
The  infant  children  cry  for  bread. 
And  no  man  breaketh  it.     The  suckling's  tongue  for  thirst 

Now  cleaveth  to  his  mouth.     Our  land  is  cursed ; 
Our  wasted  Zion  mourns,  in  vain  her  hands  are  spread. 

A  mother's  tale  of  grief, 
Of  sudden  blight  upon  the  chief. 
The  only  flower  of  love  that  cheered  her  widowed  need : 

O  loneliest !  O  desolate  indeed ! 
Were  it  not  mockery  to  whisper  here 
A  word  of  hope  and  cheer  ? 

A  mountain  brow,  an  awe-struck  crowd. 
The  prayer-sent  flame,  the  prayer-sent  cloud, 

A  mighty  faith,  a  more  than  kingly  power. 
Changed  for  depression's  darkest  hour. 

For  one  lone  shadow  in  the  desert  sought, 

A  fainting  frame,  a  spirit  overwrought, 
A  sense  of  labour  vain,  and  strength  all  spent  for  nought. 

Death  hovering  near. 
With  visible  terror-spear 
Of  famine,  or  a  murder-stained  sword, 
A  stricken  land  forsaken  of  her  Lord ; 
While  bowed  with  doubled  fear, 
The  faithful  few  appear ; 
O  sorrows  manifold  outpoured  ! 


l6  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Is  blessing  built  upon  such  dark  foundation ; 
And  can  a  temple  rising  from  such  woe, 
Rising  upon  such  mournful  crypts  below, 
Be  filled  with  light  and  joy  and  sounding  adoration  ? 

O  strange  mosaic  !  wondrously  inlaid 

Are  all  its  depths  of  shade. 

With  beauteous  stones  of  promise,  marbles  fair 

Of  trust  and  calm,  and  flashing  brightly,  there 

The  precious  gems  of  praise  are  set,  and  shine 

Resplendent  with  a  light  that  almost  seems  Divine. 

Thanks  be  to  God ! 
The  thirsty  land  He  laveth, 
The  perishing  He  saveth ; 
The  floods  hft  up  their  voices, 
The  answering  earth  rejoices. 
Thanks  be  to  Him,  and  never-ending  laud, 
For  this  new  token  of  His  bounteous  love, 
Who  reigns  in  might  the  waterfloods  above : 
The  gathering  waters  rush  along ; 
And  leaps  the  exultant  shout,  one  cataract  of  song, 
Thanks  be  to  God  ! 

Thus  joyously  we  sing; 
Nor  is  this  all  the  praise  we  bring. 
We  need  not  wait  for  earthquake,  storm,  and  fire 

To  lift  our  praises  higher ; 
Nor  wait  for  heaven-dawn  ere  we  join  the  hymn 

Of  throne-surrounding  cherubim ; 
For  even  on  earth  their  anthem  hath  begun, 
To  Him,  the  Mighty  and  the  Holy  One. 


THREEFOLD  PRAISE.  17 

We  know  the  still  small  Voice  in  many  a  word 
Of  guidance,  and  command,  and  promise  heard ; 
And,  knowing  it,  we  bow  before  His  feet, 
With  love  and  awe  the  seraph-strain  repeat, 
Holy,  Holy,  Holy  !     God  the  Lord ! 
His  glory  fills  the  earth,  His  name  be  all-adored. 

O  Lord,  our  Lord  !  how  excellent  Thy  name 
Throughout  this  universal  frame  ! 

Therefore  Thy  children  rest 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  Thy  wings, 

A  shelter  safe  and  blest ; 
And  tune  their  often  tremulous  strings 
Thy  love  to  praise.  Thy  glory  to  proclaim, 
The  Merciful,  the  Gracious  One,  eternally  The  Same. 


PART    III. 

'  .  .  .  but  above  all,  for  Thine  inestimable  love  in  the  redemption  of 
the  world  by  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.' 

Handel's  'Messiah.' 

Hush  !  for  a  master  harp  is  tuned  again, 

In  truest  unison  with  choirs  above, 
For  prelude  to  a  loftier,  sweeter  strani. 

The  praise  of  God's  inestimable  love ; 
Who  sent  redemption  to  a  world  of  woe, 
That  all  a  Father's  heart  His  banished  ones  might  know. 

Hush  !  while  on  silvery  wing  of  holiest  song 
Floats  forth  the  old,  dear  story  of  our  peace, 

His  coming,  the  Desire  of  Ages  long, 

To  wear  our  chains,  and  win  our  glad  release. 

B 


l8  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Our  wondering  joy,  to  hear  such  tidings  blest, 
Is  crowned  with  'Come  to  Him,  and  He  will  give  you 
rest.' 

Rest,  by  His  sorrow  !     Bruised  for  our  sin, 
Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  !  His  death  our  life. 

Now  lift  your  heads,  ye  gates !  He  entereth  in, 
Christ  risen  indeed,  and  Conqueror  in  the  strife. 

Tiianks,  thanks  to  Him  who  won,  and  Him  who  gave 
Such  victory  of  love,  such  triumph  o'er  the  grave. 

Hark  !  '  Hallelujah  ! '  O  sublimest  strain  ! 

Is  it  prophetic  echo  of  the  day 
When  He,  our  Saviour  and  our  King,  shall  reign, 

And  all  the  earth  shall  own  His  righteous  sway  ? 
Lift  heart  and  voice,  and  swell  the  mighty  chords, 
While  hallelujahs  peal,  to  Him,  the  Lord  of  lords  ! 

'  Worthy  of  all  adoration, 

Is  the  Lamb  that  once  was  slain,' 

Cry,  in  raptured  exultation. 

His  redeemed  from  every  nation ; 
Angel  myriads  join  the  strain. 

Sounding  from  their  sinless  strings 

Glory  to  the  King  of  kings  : 

Harping,  with  their  harps  of  gold, 

Praise  which  never  can  be  told. 

Hallelujahs  full  and  swelling 
Rise  around  His  throne  of  might, 

All  our  highest  laud  excelhng, 

Holy  and  immortal,  dwelling 
In  the  unapproachcd  light, 


NOT  YET.  19. 


He  is  worthy  to  receive 
All  that  heaven  and  earth  can  give ; 
Blessing,  honour,  glory,  might, 
All  are  His  by  glorious  right. 

As  the  sound  of  many  waters 

Let  the  full  Amen  arise  ! 
Hallelujah  !     Ceasing  never. 
Sounding  through  the  great  for  ever, 

Linking  all  its  harmonies  ; 
Through  eternities  of  bliss. 
Lord,  our  rapture  shall  be  this ; 
And  our  endless  life  shall  be 
One  Amen  of  praise  to  Thee. 


IRot  l!)et. 

John  xiii.  7. 

Not  yet  thou  knowest  what  I  do, 

O  feeble  child  of  earth, 
Whose  life  is  but  to  angel  viev/ 

The  morning  of  thy  birth  ! 
The  smallest  leaf,  the  simplest  flower. 

The  wild  bee's  honey-cell. 
Have  lessons  of  My  love  and  power 

Too  hard  for  thee  to  spell. 

Thou  knowest  not  how  I  uphold 

The  little  thou  dost  scan ; 
And  how  much  less  canst  thou  unfold 

My  universal  plan, 


20  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Where  all  thy  mind  can  grasp  of  space 

Is  but  a  grain  of  sand ; — 
The  time  thy  boldest  thought  can  trace, 

One  ripple  on  the  strand  ! 

Not  yet  thou  knowest  what  I  do, 

In  this  wild,  warring  world, 
Whose  prince  doth  still  triumphant  view 

Confusion's  flag  unfurled ; 
Nor  how  each  proud  and  daring  thought 

Is  subject  to  My  will, 
Each  strong  and  secret  purpose  brought 

My  counsel  to  fulfil. 

Not  yet  thou  knowest  how  I  bid 

Each  passing  hour  entwine 
Its  grief  or  joy,  its  hope  or  fear. 

In  one  great  love-design ; 
Nor  how  I  lead  thee  through  the  night, 

By  many  a  various  way, 
Still  upward  to  unclouded  light, 

And  onward  to  the  day. 

Not  yet  thou  knowest  what  I  do 

Within  thine  own  weak  breast. 
To  mould  thee  to  My  image  true, 

And  fit  thee  for  My  rest. 
But  yield  thee  to  My  loving  skill ; 

The  veiled  work  of  grace, 
From  day  to  day  progressing  still, 

It  is  not  thine  to  trace. 


THANKSGIVING.  21 


Yes,  walk  by  faith  and  not  by  sight, 

Fast  dinging  to  My  hand ; 
Content  to  feel  My  love  and  might, 

Not  yet  to  understand. 
A  little  while  thy  course  pursue, 

Till  grace  to  glory  grow ; 
Then  what  I  am,  and  what  I  do, 

Hereafter  thou  shalt  know. 


Thanks  be  to  God  !  to  whom  earth  owes 

Sunshine  and  breeze, 
The  heath-clad  hill,  the  vale's  repose. 

Streamlet  and  seas. 
The  snowdrop  and  the  summer  rose, 
The  many-voicbd  trees. 

Thanks  for  the  darkness  that  reveals 

Night's  starry  dower  \ 
And  for  the  sable  cloud  that  heals 

Each  fevered  flower ; 
And  for  the  rushing  storm  that  peals 
Our  weakness  and  Thy  power. 

Thanks  for  the  sweetly-lingering  might 

In  music's  tone ; 
For  paths  of  knowledge,  whose  calm  light 

Is  all  Thine  own ; 
For  thoughts  that  at  the  Infinite 
Fold  their  bright  wings  alone. 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


Yet  thanks  that  silence  oft  may  flow 

In  dewhke  store ; 
Thanks  for  the  mysteries  that  show 

How  small  our  lore ; 
Thanks  that  we  here  so  little  know, 
And  trust  Thee  all  the  more ! 

Thanks  for  the  gladness  that  entwines 

Our  path  below ; 
Each  sunrise  that  incarnadines 

The  cold,  still  snow  ; 
Thanks  for  the  light  of  love  which  shines 
With  brightest  earthly  glow. 

Thanks  for  the  sickness  and  the  grief 

Which  none  may  flee ; 
For  loved  ones  standing  now  around 

The  crystal  sea ; 
And  for  the  weariness  of  heart 
Which  only  rests  in  Thee. 

Thanks  for  Thine  own  thrice-blessed  Word, 

And  Sabbath  rest ; 
Thanks  for  the  hope  of  glory  stored 

In  mansions  blest ; 
Thanks  for  the  Spirit's  comfort  poured 
Into  the  trembling  breast. 

Thanks,  more  than  thanks,  to  Him  ascend, 

Who  died  to  win 
Our  life,  and  every  trophy  rend 

From  Death  and  Sin ; 


LIFE-  CR  YSTALS.  23 


Till,  when  the  thanks  of  Earth  shall  end, 
The  thanks  of  Heaven  begin. 

Note. — It  may  be  well  to  say,  that  thqse  verses  were  in  print  before  the 
v/riter  either  saw  or  heard  of  the  beautiful  little  poem  by  Adelaide  Proctor 
cu  the  same  theme. 


Xite»=Ct^stals. 

The  world  is  full  of  crystals.     Swift,  or  slow, 

Or  dark,  or  bright  their  varying  formation ; 

From  pure  calm  heights  of  fair  untrodden  snow 

To  fire-wrought  depths  of  earliest  creation. 

And  life  is  full  of  crystals ;  forming  still 

In  myriad-shaped  results  from  good  and  seeming  ill. 

Yes  !  forming  everywhere ;  in  busiest  street, 

In  noisiest  throng.     Oh  how  it  would  astound  us, 

The  strange  soul-chemistry  of  some  we  meet 

In  slight  and  passing  talk  !     For  all  around  us, 

Deep  inner  silence  broods  o'er  gems  to  be. 

Now,  in  three  visioned  hearts  trace  out  the  work  with  me 

A  heart  that  wonderingly  received  the  flow 
Of  marvels  and  of  mysteries  of  being, 
Of  sympathies  and  tensions,  joy  and  woe ; 
Each  earnestly  from  baser  substance  freeing : 
A  great  life-mixture,  full,  and  deep,  and  strong: 
A  sudden  touch,  and  lo  !  it  crystallized  in  song. 

Then  forth  it  flashed  among  the  souls  of  men 
Its  own  prismatic  radiance,  brightly  sealing 


24  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


A  several  rainbow  for  each  several  ken ; 
The  secrets  of  the  distant  stars  revealing ; 
Reflecting  many  a  heart's  clear  rays  unknown, 
And,  freely  shedding  light,  it  analyzed  their  own, 

A  heart  from  which  all  joy  had  ebbed  away, 
And  grief  poured  in  a  flood  of  burning  anguish, 
Then  sealed  the  molten  glow ;  till,  day  by  day, 
The  fires  without,  within,  begin  to  languish : 
Then  '  afterward '  came  coolness ;  all  was  well, 
And  from  the  broken  crust  a  shining  crystal  fell. 

A  mourner  found,  and  fastened  on  her  breast 

The  soft-hued  gem,  the  prized  by  mourners  only ; 

With  sense  of  treasure  gained  she  sought  her  rest. 

No  longer  wandering  in  the  twilight  lonely; 

The  sorrow-crystal  glittering  in  the  dark. 

While  faith  and  hope  shone  out  to  greet  its  starry  spark, 

A  heart  where  emptiness  seemed  emptier  made 

By  colourless  remains  of  tasteless  pleasure ; 

ONE  came,  and  pitying  the  hollow  shade, 

Poured  in  His  own  strong  love  in  fullest  measure ; 

Then  shadowed  it  with  silent  falling  night, 

And  stilled  it  with  the  solemn  Presence  of  His  might. 

A  little  while,  then  found  the  Master  there 
Love-crystals,  sparkling  in  the  joyous  morning; 
He  stooped  to  gaze,  and  smiled  to  own  them  fair, 
A  treasured  choice  for  His  own  rich  adorning ; 
Then  set  them  in  His  diadem  above, 
To  mingle  evermore  with  His  own  light  and  love. 


NOT  YOUR  OWN.  25 


IRot  pour  owm 

*  Not  your  own  ! '  but  His  ye  are, 

Who  hath  paid  a  price  untold 
For  your  Hfe,  exceeding  far 

All  earth's  store  of  gems  and  gold. 
With  the  precious  blood  of  Christ, 
Ransom  treasure  all  unpriced. 
Full  redemption  is  procured, 
Full  salvation  is  assured. 

*  Not  your  own  ! '  but  His  by  right, 

His  peculiar  treasure  now, 
Fair  and  precious  in  His  sight, 

Purchased  jewels  for  His  brow. 
He  will  keep  what  thus  He  sought, 
Safely  guard  the  dearly  bought, 
Cherish  that  which  He  did  choose, 
Always  love  and  never  lose. 

*Not  your  own  ! '  but  His,  the  King, 
His,  the  Lord  of  earth  and  sky. 

His,  to  whom  archangels  bring 
Homage  deep  and  praises  high. 

What  can  royal  birth  bestow  ? 

Or  the  proudest  titles  show  ? 

Can  such  dignity  be  known 

As  the  glorious  name,  '  His  own  1 ' 

*  Not  your  own  ! '     To  Him  ye  owe 

All  your  life  and  all  your  love; 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


Live,  that  ye  His  praise  may  show, 

Who  is  yet  all  praise  above. 
Every  day  and  every  hour, 
Every  gift  and  every  power, 
Consecrate  to  Him  alone, 
Who  hath  claimed  you  for  His  own. 

Teach  us,  Master,  how  to  give 
All  we  have  and  are  to  Thee ; 

Grant  us,  Saviour,  while  we  live, 
Wholly,  only,  Thine  to  be. 

Henceforth  be  our  calling  high 

Thee  to  serve  and  glorify  ; 

Ours  no  longer,  but  Thine  own. 

Thine  for  ever,  Thine  alone  1 


Moun&eD. 

Only  a  look  and  a  motion  that  nobody  saw  or  heard. 
Past  in  a  moment  and  over,  with  never  the  sound  of  a 

word; 
Streams  of  converse  around  me  smoothly  and  cheeri'.y 

flow, 
But  a  terrible  stab  has  been  given,  a  silent  and  staggering 

blow. 


Guesses  the  hand  that  gave  it  hardly  a  tithe  of  the  smart, 
Nothing  at  all  of  the  anguish  that  fiercely  leapt  up  in  my 
heart, 


WOUNDED.  27 


Scorching  and  scathing  its  peace,  while  a  tremulous  nerve 

to  the  brain 
Flashed  up  a  telegram  sudden,  a  message  of  quivering 

pain. 

They  must  be  merry  without  me,  for  how  can  I  sing  to- 
night ? 

They  will  only  think  I  am  tired,  and  thoughtfully  shade 
the  light ; 

Finger  and  voice  would  fail  while  the  wound  is  open  and 
sore; 

Bleeding  away  the  strength  I  had  gathered  for  days  before. 

Only  a  look  and  a  motion  !     Yes,  but  we  little  know 
How  from  each  dwarf-like  '  only '  a  giant  of  power  may 

grow; 
The  thundering  avalanche  crushes,  loosened  by  only  a 

breath. 
And  only  a  colourless  drop  may  be  laden  with  sudden 

death. 

Only  a  word  of  command,  but  it  loses  or  wins  the  field ; 
Only  a  stroke  of  the  pen,  but  a  heart  is  broken  or  healed ; 
Only  a  step  may  sever,  pole-wide,  future  and  past; 
Only  a  touch  may  rivet  links  which  for  life  shall  last. 

Only  a  look  and  a  motion  !    Why  was  the  wound  so  deep  ? 
Were  it  no  echo  of  sorrow,  hushed  for  a  while  to  sleep, 
Were  it  no  shadow  of  fear,  far  o'er  the  future  thrown. 
Slight  were  the  suffering  now,  if  it  bore  on  the  present 
alone. 


28  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Ah !  I  would  smile  it  away,  but  'tis  all  too  fresh  and  too 

keen ; 
Perhaps   I   may  some   day  recall  it  as  if  it   had   never 

been; 
Now   I   can  only  be  still,  and   endure  where   I   cannot 

cope, 
Praying  for  meekness  and  patience,  praying  for  faith  and 

hope. 

Is  it  an  answer  already  that  words  to  my  mind  are  brought, 
Floating  like  shining  Hlies  on  waters  of  gloomiest  thought? 
Simple  and  short  is  the  sentence,  but  oh  !  what  it  compre- 
hends ! 
'  TJiose  with  which  I  was  wounded,  in  the  house  of  My 
friends.^ 

Floating    still   on   my   heart,    while    I   listen   again   and 

again, 
Stilling  the  anxious  throbbing,  soothing  the  icy  pain, 
Proving  its  sacred  mission  healing  and  balm  to  bring. 
'  Coming  ? '     Yes,  if  you  want  me  !     Yes,  I  am  ready  to 

sing. 


'm\ic>5t  5  am. 

Jesus,  Master,  whose  I  am. 
Purchased  Thine  alone  to  be, 

By  Thy  blood,  O  spotless  Lamb, 
Shed  so  willingly  for  me ; 

Let  my  heart  be  all  Thine  own, 

Let  me  live  to  Thee  alone. 


WHOM  I  SERVE.  ag 


Other  lords  have  long  held  sway ; 

Now,  Thy  name  alone  to  bear, 
Thy  dear  voice  alone  obey, 

Is  my  daily,  hourly  prayer. 
Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  Thee  ? 
Nothing  else  my  joy  can  be. 

Jesus,  Master  !  I  am  Thine ; 

Keep  me  faithful,  keep  me  near ; 
Let  Thy  presence  in  me  shine 

All  my  homeward  way  to  cheer. 
Jesus  !  at  Thy  feet  I  fall, 
Oh,  be  Thou  my  All-in-all. 


Mbom  %  serve* 

Jesus,  Master,  whom  I  serve, 
Though  so  feebly  and  so  ill. 

Strengthen  hand  and  heart  and  nerve 
All  Thy  bidding  to  fulfil ; 

Open  Thou  mine  eyes  to  see 

All  the  work  Thou  hast  for  me. 

Lord,  Thou  needest  not,  I  know, 
Service  such  as  I  can  bring ; 

Yet  I  long  to  prove  and  show 
Full  allegiance  to  my  King. 

Thou  an  honour^  art  to  me, 

Let  me  be  a  praise  to  Thee. 
^  See  marginal  reading  of  i  Pet.  ii.  7. 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


Jesus,  Master  !  wilt  Thou  use 

One  who  owes  Thee  more  than  all  ? 

As  Thou  wilt !     I  would  not  choose, 
Only  let  me  hear  Thy  call. 

Jesus  !  let  me  always  be 

In  Thy  service  glad  and  free. 


peace. 

Is  this  the  Peace  of  God,  this  strange,  sweet  calm  ? 
The  weary  day  is  at  its  zenith  still. 
Yet 't  is  as  if  beside  some  cool,  clear  rill, 

Through  shadowy  stillness  rose  an  evening  psalm. 
And  all  the  noise  of  life  were  hushed  away. 
And  tranquil  gladness  reigned  with  gently  soothing  s«ay. 

It  was  not  so  just  now.     I  turned  aside 
With  aching  head,  and  heart  most  sorely  bowed ; 
Around  me  cares  and  griefs  in  crushing  crowd, 

AVhile  inly  rose  the  sense,  in  swelling  tide, 
Of  weakness,  insufficiency,  and  sin, 
And  fear,  and  gloom,  and  doubt,  in  mighty  flood  rolled  in. 

That  rushing  flood  I  had  no  strength  to  meet, 
Nor  power  to  flee  :  my  present,  future,  past, 
My  self,  my  sorrow,  and  my  sin  I  cast 

In  utter  helplessness  at  Jesu's  feet ; 
Then  bent  me  to  the  storm,  if  such  His  will. 
He  saw  the  winds  and  waves,  and  whispered,  '  Peace,  be 
still ! ' 


GOnS  MESSAGE.  31 


And  there  was  calm  !     O  Saviour,  I  have  proved 
That  Thou  to  help  and  save  art  really  near: 
How  else  this  quiet  rest  from  grief,  and  fear, 

And  all  distress  ?     The  cross  is  not  removed, 
I  rnust  go  forth  to  bear  it  as  before, 
But,  leaning  on  Thine  arm,  I  dread  its  weight  no  more. 

Is  it  indeed  Thy  Peace  ?     I  have  not  tried 
To  analyze  my  faith,  dissect  my  trust. 
Or  measure  if  belief  be  full  and  just, 

And  therefore  claim  Thy  Peace.     But  Thou  hast  died. 
I  know  that  this  is  true,  and  true  for  me, 

And,  knowing  it,  I  come,  and  cast  my  all  on  Thee. 

It  is  not  that  I  feel  less  weak,  but  Thou 
Wilt  be  my  strength ;  it  is  not  that  I  see 
Less  sin,  but  more  of  pardoning  love  with  Thee, 

And  all-sufficient  grace.     Enough  !     And  now 
^11  fluttering  thought  is  stilled,  I  only  rest, 
And  feel  that  Thou  art  near,  and  know  that  I  am  blest. 


6o&'s  /IDessage, 

TO  HIM  THAT  IS  FAR  OFF. 

Peace,  peace ! 

To  him  that  is  far  away. 
Turn,  O  wanderer !  why  wilt  thou  die, 
When  the  peace  is  made  that  shall  bring  thee  nigli  ? 
Listen,  O  rebel !  the  heralds  proclaim 
The  King's  own  peace  through  a  Saviour's  name ; 

Then  yield  thee  to-day. 


32  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Peace,  peace ! 

The  word  of  the  Lord  to  thee. 
Peace,  for  thy  passion  and  restless  pride, 
For  thy  endless  cravings  all  unsupplied, 
Peace  for  thy  weary  and  sin-worn  breast ; 
He  knows  the  need  who  has  promised  rest, 

And  the  gift  is  free. 

Peace,  peace ! 

Through  Him  who  for  all  hath  died  ! 
Wider  the  terms  than  thy  deepest  guilt, 
Or  in  vain  were  the  blood  of  our  Surety  spilt : 
Even  because  thou  art  far  away 
To  thee  is  the  message  of  peace  to-day. 

Peace  through  the  Crucified. 

AND   TO   HIM  THAT   IS   NEAR. 

Peace,  peace  ! 

Yea,  peace  to  him  that  is  near. 
The  crown  is  set  on  the  Victor's  brow. 
For  thy  warfare  is  accomplished  now ;  \ 

And  for  thee  eternal  peace  is  made 
By  the  Lord  on  whom  thy  sins  were  laid : 

Then  why  shouldst  thou  fear? 

Peace,  peace ! 

Wrought  by  the  Spirit  of  Might. 
In  thy  deepest  sorrow  and  sorest  strife. 
In  the  changes  and  chances  of  mortal  life. 
It  is  thine,  belovbd  !     Christ's  own  bequest, 
Which  vainly  the  Tempter  shall  strive  to  wrest  ^ 

It  is  now  thy  right. 


d 


'J  GREAT  mystery:  33 


Peace,  peace ! 

Look  for  its  bright  increase ; 
Deepening,  widening,  year  by  year, 
Like  a  sunlit  river,  strong,  calm,  and  clear ; 
Lean  on  His  love  through  this  earthly  vale, 
For  His  word  and  His  work  shall  never  fail, 

And  '  He  is  our  Peace.' 


*H  Great  /II>\?stcr\?/ 

There  is  a  hush  in  earth  and  sky, 

The  ear  is  free  to  list  aright 
In  darkness,  veiling  from  the  eye 

The  many-coloured  spells  of  light. 

Not  heralded  by  fire  and  storm, 
In  shadowy  outline  dimly  seen, 

Comes  through  the  gloom  a  glorious  Form, 
The  once  despised  Nazarene. 

Through  waiting  silence,  voiceless  shade, 
A  still,  small  Voice  so  clearly  floats, 

A  listening  lifetime  were  o'erpaid 
By  one  sweet  echo  of  such  notes. 

'  Fear  not,  beloved  !  thou  art  Mine, 
For  I  have  given  My  life  for  thee  ■; 

By  name  I  call  thee,  rise  and  shine, 
Be  praise  and  glory  unto  Me. 

'  In  Me  all  spotless  and  complete, 
And  in  My  comeliness  most  fair 


34  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Art  thou ;  to  Me  thy  voice  is  sweet, 
Prevaihng  in  thy  feeblest  prayer, 

'  Thy  Hfe  is  hid  in  God  with  Me, 
I  stoop  to  dwell  within  thy  breast ; 

My  joy  for  ever  thou  shalt  be, 
And  in  My  love  for  thee  I  rest. 

*  O  Prince's  daughter,  whom  I  see 
In  bridal  garments,  pure  as  light, 

Betrothed  for  ever  unto  Me, 

On  thee  My  own  new  name  I  write. 

Lo  !  'neath  the  stars'  uncertain  ray 
In  flowing  mantle  glistening  fair, 

One,  lowly  bending,  turns  away 

From  that  sweet  voice  in  cold  despair. 

Is  it  Humility,  who  sees 

Herself  unworthy  of  such  grace, 

Who  dares  not  hope  her  Lord  to  please, 
Who  dares  not  look  upon  His  face  ? 

Nay,  where  that  mantle  fleeting  gleams 
'Tis  Unbelief  who  turns  aside. 

Who  rather  rests  in  self-spun  dreams, 
Than  trust  the  love  of  Him  who  died. 

Faith  casts  away  the  fair  disguise. 

She  will  not  doubt  her  Master's  voice, 

And  droop  when  He  hath  bid  her  rise. 
Or  mourn  when  He  hath  said,  '  Eejoice  ! ' 


BE  NOT  WEARY.  35 


Her  stained  and  soiled  robes  she  leaves, 
And  Christ's  own  shining  raiment  takes ; 

What  His  love  gives,  her  love  receives, 
And  meek  and  trustful  answer  makes : 

'  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord  ! 

Thou  callest,  and  I  come  to  Thee : 
According  to  Thy  faithful  word, 

0  Master,  be  it  unto  me  ! 

*  Thy  love  I  cannot  comprehend, 

1  only  know  Thy  word  is  true, 
And  that  Thou  lovest  to  the  end 

Each  whom  to  Thee  the  Father  drew. 

'  Oh  !  take  the  heart  I  could  not  give 
Without  Thy  strength-bestowing  call ; 

In  Thee,  and  for  Thee,  let  me  live, 
For  I  am  nothing.  Thou  art  all.' 


Be  not  MeaiT. 

Yes  !  He  knows  the  way  is  dreary. 
Knows  the  weakness  of  our  frame, 

Knows  that  hand  and  heart  are  weary ; 
He,  '  in  all  points,'  felt  the  same. 

He  is  near  to  help  and  bless ; 

Be  not  weary,  onward  press. 

Look  to  Him  who  once  was  willing 
All  His  glcjry  to  resign, 


36  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

That,  for  thee  the  law  fulfilling, 
All  His  merit  might  be  thine. 
Strive  to  follow  day  by  day 
Where  His  footsteps  mark  the  way. 

Look  to  Him,  the  Lord  of  Glory, 
Tasting  death  to  win  thy  life  ; 

Gazing  on  '  that  wondrous  story,' 
Canst  thou  falter  in  the  strife  ? 

Is  it  not  new  life  to  know 

That  the  Lord  hath  loved  thee  so  ? 

Look  to  Him  who  ever  liveth, 
Interceding  for  His  own  : 

Seek,  yea,  claim  the  grace  He  giveth 
Freely  from  His  priestly  throne. 

Will  He  not  thy  strength  renew 

With  His  Spirit's  quickening  dew  ? 

Look  to  Him,  and  faith  shall  brighten, 
Hope  shall  soar,  and  love  shall  burn ; 

Peace  once  more  thy  heart  shall  lighten 
Rise  !  He  calleth  thee,  return  ! 

Be  not  weary  on  thy  way, 

Jesus  is  thy  strength  and  stay. 


Ube  6reat  ITcacber. 

I  LOVE  to  feel  that  I  am  taught, 

And,  as  a  little  child, 
To  note  the  lessons  I  have  learnt 

In  passing  through  the  wild. 


THE  GREAT  TEACHER.  37 

For  I  am  sure  God  teaches  me, 

And  His  own  gracious  hand 
Each  varying  page  before  me  spreads, 

By  love  and  wisdom  planned. 

I  often  think  I  cannot  spell 

The  lesson  I  must  learn, 
And  then,  in  weariness  and  doubt, 

I  pray  the  page  may  turn ; 
But  time  goes  on,  and  soon  I  find 

I  was  learning  all  the  while  ; 
And  words  which  seemed  most  dimly  traced 

Shine  out  with  rainbow  smile. 

Or  sometimes  strangely  I  forget, 

And,  learning  o'er  and  o'er, 
A  lesson  all  with  tear-drops  wet, 

Which  I  had  learnt  before. 
He  chides  me  not,  but  waits  awhile, 

Then  wipes  my  heavy  eyes  : 
Oh  what  a  Teacher  is  our  God, 

So  patient  and  so  wise  ! 

Dark  silent  hours  of  study  fall, 

And  I  can  scarcely  see ; 
Then  one  beside  me  whispers  low 

What  is  so  hard  to  me. 
'T  is  easier  then  !  I  am  so  glad 

I  am  not  taught  alone  ; 
It  is  such  help  to  overhear 

A  lesson  like  my  own. 


38  THE  MINISTR  Y  OF  SONG. 

Sometimes  the  Master  gives  to  me 

A  strange  new  alphabet ; 
I  wonder  what  its  use  will  be, 

Or  why  it  need  be  set. 
And  then  I  find  this  tongue  alone 

Some  stranger  ear  can  reach, 
One  whom  He  may  commission  me 

For  Him  to  train  or  teach. 

If  others  sadly  bring  to  me 

A  lesson  hard  and  new, 
I  often  find  that  helping  them 

Has  made  me  learn  it  too. 
Or,  had  I  learnt  it  long  before, 

My  toil  is  overpaid, 
If  so  one  tearful  eye  may  see 

One  lesson  plainer  made. 

We  do  not  see  our  Teacher's  face. 

We  do  not  hear  His  voice ; 
And  yet  we  know  that  He  is  near, 

We  feel  it,  and  rejoice. 
There  is  a  music  round  our  hearts. 

Set  in  no  mortal  key ; 
There  is  a  Presence  with  our  souls. 

We  know  that  it  is  He. 

His  loving  teaching  cannot  fail ; 

And  we  shall  know  at  last 
Each  task  that  seemed  so  hard  and  strange, 

When  learning  time  is  past. 
Oh !  may  we  learn  to  love  Him  more, 

By  every  opening  page, 


AUNTIE'S  LESSONS.  39 


By  every  lesson  He  shall  mark 
With  daily  ripening  age. 

And  then,  to  '  know  as  we  are  known ' 

Shall  be  our  glorious  prize, 
To  see  the  Teacher  who  hath  been 

So  patient  and  so  wise. 
O  joy  untold  !     Yet  not  alone 

Shall  ours  the  gladness  be ; 
The  travail  of  His  soul  in  us 

Our  Saviour-God  shall  see. 


Huntle'6  Xessons. 

They  said  their  texts,  and  their  hymns  they  sang, 

On  that  sunny  Sabbath-day ; 
And  yet  there  was  time  ere  the  church-bell  rang, 

So  I  bid  them  trot  away. 
And  leave  me  to  rest  and  read  alone, 
Where  the  ash-tree's  shade  o'er  the  lawn  was  thrown. 

But  oh  !  't  was  a  cry  and  a  pleading  sore, 

'  O  Auntie !  we  will  not  tease, 
But  tell  us  one  Sunday  story  more ; 
We  will  sit  so  still  on  the  grassy  floor ; 
Tell  us  the  one  you  told  before 

Of  little  black  Mumu,  please, 
Whom,  deaf  and  dumb,  and  sick  and  lone, 

The  good  ship  brought  to  Sierra  Leone.' 


40  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Willie  begged  loud,  and  Francie  low, 
And  Alice,  who  could  resist  her  ? 

Certainly  not  myself,  and  so 

The  story  was  just  beginning,  when  lo  ! 
To  the  rescue  came  my  sister. 

'  /  will  tell  you  a  story  to-day ; 

Aunt  Fanny  has  all  her  own  lessons  to  say !  * 

Wonderful  notion,  and  not  at  all  clear  ! 

Alfred  looked  quite  astounded. 
Who  in  the  world  my  lessons  could  hear  ? 
They  guessed  at  every  one  far  and  near, 

'Twas  a  mystery  unbounded. 
They  settled  at  last  that  it  must  be 
Grandpapa  Havergal  over  the  sea. 

Then  merry  eyes  grew  grave  and  wise, 

On  tiptoe  Alice  trod ; 
She  had  a  better  thought  than  they, 
And  whispered  low,  '  Does  Auntie  say 

Her  lessons  all  to  God  ? ' 
How  little  the  import  deep  she  knew 
Of  those  baby-words,  so  sweet  and  true ! 

Little  she  knew  what  they  enfold ! — 
A  treasure  of  happy  thought ; 

A  tiny  casket  of  virgin  gold, 

With  jewels  of  comfort  fraught. 

Great  men's  wisdom  may  pass  away. 

Dear  Alice's  words  in  my  heart  will  stay. 


REST.  41 


IRest 

'  Thou  hast  made  us  for  Thyself,  and  the  heart  never  resteth  till  it  findeth 
rest  in  Thee." — St.  Augusti7ie. 

Made  for  Thyself,  O  God  ! 
Made  for  Thy  love,  Thy  service.  Thy  delight ; 
Made  to  show  forth  Thy  wisdom,  grace,  and  might ; 
Made  for  Thy  praise,  whom  veiled  archangels  laud ; 
Oh  strange  and  glorious  thought,  that  we  may  be 

A  joy  to  Thee! 

Yet  the  heart  turns  away 
From  this  grand  destiny  of  bliss,  and  deems 
'T  was  made  for  its  poor  self,  for  passing  dreams, 
Chasing  illusions  melting  day  by  day ; 
Till/c'r  ourselves  we  read  on  this  world's  best, 

'  This  is  not  rest ! ' 

Nor  can  the  vain  toil  cease, 
Till  in  the  shadowy  maze  of  life  we  meet 
One  who  can  guide  our  aching,  wayward  feet 
To  find  Himself,  our  Way,  our  Life,  our  Peace. 
In  Him  the  long  unrest  is  soothed  and  stilled ; 

Our  hearts  arc  filled. 

O  rest,  so  true,  so  sweet ! 
(Would  it  were  shared  by  all  the  weary  world  !) 
'Neath  shadov/ing  banner  of  His  love  unfurled, 
We  bend  to  kiss  the  Master's  pierced  feet; 
Then  lean  our  love  upon  His  loving  breast, 

And  know  God's  rest. 


42  THE  MINISTR  Y  OF  SONG. 


®ne  (Siuestlottt  /!P)an\?  Hnswers. 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ? ' 
The  question  hath  wakened  wild  thoughts  in  me, 
And   a   thousand   responses,  hke  ghosts  from  iheir 

graves, 
Arise  from  my  soul's  unexplored  deep  caves, 
The  echoes  of  every  varying  mood 
Of  a  wayward  spirit  all  unsubdued  ; 
The  voices  which  thrill  through  my  inmost  breast 
May  tell  me  of  gladness,  but  not  of  rest. 

What  wouldst  thou  be  ? 
'T  is  well  that  the  answer  is  not  for  me. 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ? ' 
An  eagle  soaring  rejoicingly. 
One  who  may  rise  on  the  lightning's  wing, 
Till  our  wide,  wide  world  seem  a  tiny  thing ; 
Who  may  stand  on  the  confines  of  boundless  space, 
And  the  giant  form  of  the  universe  trace. 
While  its  full  grand  harmonies  swell  around, 
And  grasp  it  all  with  mind  profound. 

Such  would  I  be, 
Only  stayed  by  infinity. 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ?  * 
A  bright  incarnation  of  melody. 
One  whose  soul  is  a  fairy  lute. 
Waking  such  tones  as  bid  all  be  mute, 
Breathing  such  notes  as  may  silence  woe, 
Pouring  such  strains  as  make  joy  o'erflow, 


ONE  QUESTION,  MANY  ANSWERS. 

Speaking  in  music  the  heart's  deep  emotion, 
Soothing  and  sweet  as  the  shell  of  the  ocean. 

Such  would  I  be, 
Like  a  fountain  of  music,  all  pure  and  free. 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ? ' 
A  living  blossom  of  poesy. 
A  soul  of  mingled  power  and  light, 
Evoking  images  rare  and  bright. 
Fair  and  pure  as  an  angel's  dream ; 
Touching  all  with  a  heavenly  gleam ; 
And  royally  claiming  from  poet-throne 
Earth's  treasure  of  beauty  as  all  mine  own. 

Such  would  I  be — 
My  childhood's  dream  in  reality  ! 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ? ' 
A  wondrous  magnet  to  all  I  see. 
A  spirit  whose  power  may  touch  and  bind 
With  unconscious  influence  every  mind ; 
Whose  presence  brings,  like  some  fabled  wand, 
The  love  which  a  monarch  may  not  command. 
As  the  spring  awakens  from  cold  repose 
The  bloomless  brier,  the  sweet  wild  rose. 

Such  would  I  be. 
With  the  love  of  all  to  encircle  me 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ? ' 
A  wavelet  just  rising  from  life's  wide  sea. 
I  would  I  were  once  again  a  child, 
Like  a  laughing  floweret  on  mountains  wild; 
In  the  fairy  realms  of  fancy  dwelling, 
The  golden  moments  for  sunbeams  selling ; 


44  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Ever  counting  on  bright  to-morrows, 
And  knowing  nought  of  unspoken  sorrows. 

Such  would  I  be, 
A  sparkhng  cascade  of  untiring  glee. 

'What  wouldst  thou  be?' 
A  blessing  to  each  one  surrounding  me ; 
A  chalice  of  dew  to  the  weary  heart, 
A  sunbeam  of  joy  bidding  sorrow  depart, 
To  the  storm-tossed  vessel  a  beacon  light, 
A  nightingale  song  in  the  darkest  night, 
A  beckoning  hand  to  a  far-off  goal, 
An  angel  of  love  to  each  friendless  soul : 

Such  would  I  be. 
Oh  that  such  happiness  were  for  me ! 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ? ' 
With  these  alone  were  no  rest  for  me. 
I  would  be  my  Saviour's  loving  child, 
With  a  heart  set  free  from  its  passions  wild, 
Rejoicing  in  Him  and  His  own  sweet  ways; 
An  echo  of  heaven's  unceasing  praise, 
A  mirror  here  of  His  light  and  love, 
And  a  polished  gem  in  His  crown  above. 

Such  would  I  be. 
Thine,  O  Saviour,  and  one  with  Thee  ! 


Content 

* "  What  wouldst  thou  be  ?  " 
A  wavelet  just  rising  from  life's  wide  sea. 


CONTENT.  45 


I  would  I  were  once  again  a  child, 

Like  a  laughing  floweret  on  mountains  wild; 

In  the  fairy  realms  of  fancy  dwelling, 

The  golden  moments  for  sunbeams  selling ; 

Ever  counting  on  bright  to-morrows, 

And  knowing  nought  of  unspoken  sorrows. 

Such  would  I  be, 
A  sparkling  cascade  of  untiring  glee.' 


i860 


Not  so,  not  so  ! 
For  longings  change  as  the  full  years  flow. 
When  I  had  but  taken  a  step  or  two 
From  the  fairy  regions  still  in  view; 
While  their  playful  breezes  fanned  me  still 
At  every  pause  on  the  steeper  hill, 
And  the  blossoms  showered  from  every  shoot, 
Showered  and  fell,  and  yet  no  fruit, — 

It  was  grief  and  pain 
That  I  never  could  be  a  child  again. 


Not  so,  not  so  ! 
Back  to  my  life-dawn  I  would  not  go. 
A  little  is  lost,  but  more  is  won, 
As  the  sterner  work  of  the  day  is  done. 
We  forget  that  the  troubles  of  childish  days 
Were  once  gigantic  in  morning  haze. 
There  is  less  of  fancy,  but  more  of  truth. 
For  we  lose  the  mists  with  the  dew  of  youth  ; 

And  a  rose  is  born 
On  many  a  spray  which  seemed  only  thorn. 


46  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Not  SO,  not  so  ! 
AVhile  the  years  of  childhood  ghded  slow, 
There  was  all  to  receive  and  nothing  to  give  : 
Is  it  not  better  for  others  to  live  ? 
And  happier  far  than  merriest  games 
Is  the  joy  of  our  new  and  nobler  aims  : 
Then  fair  fresh  flowers,  now  lasting  gems ; 
Then  wreaths  for  a  day,  but  now  diadems, 

For  ever  to  shine, 
Bright  in  the  radiance  of  Love  Divine. 

Not  so,  not  so  ! 
I  would  not  again  be  a  child,  I  know  ! 
But  were  it  not  pleasant  again  to  stand 
On  the  border-line  of  that  fairy  land, — 
Feeling  so  buoyant  and  blithe  and  strong. 
Fearing  no  sHp  as  we  bound  along, 
Halting  at  will  in  the  sunshine  to  bask. 
Deeming  the  journey  an  easy  task, 

While  Courage  and  Hope 
Smooth  with  '  Come,  see,  and  conquer '  each  emerald 
slope  ? 

Not  so,  not  so  ! 
Less  leaping  flame,  but  a  deeper  glow  ! 
There  is  more  of  sorrow,  but  more  of  joy, 
Less  glittering  ore,  but  less  alloy ; 
There  is  more  of  pain,  but  more  of  balm, 
And  less  of  pleasure,  but  more  of  calm ; 
Many  a  hope  all  spent  and  dead, 
But  higher  and  brighter  hopes  instead ; 

Less  risked,  more  won ; 
Less  planned  and  dreamed,  but  perhaps  more  done. 


MISUNDERSTOOD.  47 

Not  so,  not  so  ! 
Not  in  stature  and  learning  alone  we  grow. 
Though  we  no  more  look  from  year  to  year 
.  For  power  of  mind  more  strong  and  clear, 
Though  the  table-land  of  life  we  tread, 
No  widening  view  before  we  spread, 
No  sunlit  summits  to  lure  ambition. 
But  only  the  path  of  a  daily  mission, 

We  would  not  turn 
Where  the  will-o'-the-wisps  of  our  young  dreams  burn. 

Then  be  it  so  ! 
For  in  better  things  we  yet  may  grow. 
Onward  and  upward  still  our  way. 
With  the  joy  of  progress  from  day  to  day  ; 
Nearer  and  nearer  every  year 
To  the  visions  and  hopes  most  true  and  dear ; 
Children  sfill  of  a  Father's  love. 
Children  still  of  a  home  above  ! 

Thus  we  look  back, 
Without  a  sigh,  o'er  the  lengthening  track. 


/!C>tsunC)er6too&. 

'  People  do  not  understand  me, 
Their  ideas  are  not  like  mine ; 

All  advances  seem  to  land  me 
Still  outside  their  guarded  shrine 

So  you  turn  from  simple  joyance, 
Losing  many  a  mutual  good, 


4S  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Weary  with  the  chill  annoyance 
So  to  be  misunderstood. 

Let  me  try  to  lift  the  curtain 
Hiding  other  hearts  from  view  ; 

You  complain,  but  are  you  certain 
That  the  fault  is  not  with  you  ? 

In  the  sunny  summer  hours, 
Sitting  in  your  quiet  room, 

Can  you  wonder  if  the  flowers 

Breathe  for  you  no  sweet  perfume  ? 

True,  you  see  them  bright  and  pearly 
With  the  jewelry  of  morn  ; 

But  their  fragrance,  fresh  and  early. 
Is  not  through  your  window  borne. 

You  must  go  to  them,  and  stooping. 
Cull  the  blossoms  where  they  live ; 

On  your  bosom  gently  drooping. 
All  their  treasure  they  will  give. 

Who  would  guess  what  fragrance  lingers 
In  verbena's  pale  green  show  ! 

Press  the  leaflet  in  your  fingers, 
All  its  sweetness  you  will  know. 

Few  the  harps  ^olian,  sending 
Unsought  music  on  the  wmd  : 

Else  must  love  and  skill  be  blending 
Music's  full  response  to  find. 


MISUNDERSTOOD.  49 


*  But  my  key-note,'  are  you  thinking, 
'  Will  not  modulate  to  theirs  ? ' 

Seek  !  and  subtle  chords  enhnking, 
Soon  shall  blend  the  differing  airs. 

Fairly  sought,  some  point  of  contact 
There  must  be  with  every  mind ; 

And,  perchance,  the  closest  compact 
Where  we  least  expect  we  find. 

Perhaps  the  heart  you  meet  so  coldly 
Burns  with  deepest  lava-glow ; 

Wisely  pierce  the  crust,  and  boldly, 
And  a  fervid  stream  shall  flow. 

Dialects  of  love  are  many. 

Though  the  language  be  but  one ; 
Study  all  you  can,  or  any. 

While  life's  precious  school-hours  run. 

Closed  the  heart-door  of  thy  brother, 
All  its  treasure  long  concealed  ? 

One  key  fails,  then  try  another. 
Soon  the  rusty  lock  shall  yield. 

Few  have  not  some  hidden  trial, 
And  could  sympathize  with  thine  j 

J)o  not  take  it  as  denial 

That  you  see  no  outward  sign. 

Silence  is  no  certain  token 
That  no  secret  grief  is  there ; 


so  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Sorrow  which  is  never  spoken 
Is  the  heaviest  load  to  bear. 

Seldom  can  the  heart  be  lonely, 
If  it  seek  a  lonelier  still, 

Self-forgetting,  seeking  only 
Emptier  cups  of  love  to  fill. 

'Twill  not  be  a  fruitless  labour, 
Overcome  this  ill  with  good ; 

Try  to  understand  your  neighbour, 
And  you  will  be  understood. 


Sunbeams  in  tf3e  Moo&» 

Mark  ye  not  the  sunbeams  glancing 
Through  the  cool  green  shade, 

On  the  waving  fern-leaves  dancing, 
In  the  quiet  glade  ? 

See  you  how  they  change  and  quiver 
Where  the  broad  oaks  rise. 

Rippling  like  a  golden  river 
From  their  fountain  skies  ? 

On  the  grey  old  timber  resting 

Like  a  sleeping  dove, 
Like  a  fairy  grandchild  nesting 

In  an  old  man's  love. 

On  the  dusty  pathway  tracing 
Arabesques  with  golden  style ; 


THE  STAR  SHOWER. 


5^ 


Light  and  shadow  interlacing, 
Like  a  tearful  smile. 

Many  a  hidden  leaf  revealing, 

Many  an  unseen  flower ; 
Like  a  maiden  lightly  stealing 

Past  each  secret  bower. 

Oh  !  how  beautiful  they  make  it 

Everywhere  they  fall ; 
Sunbeams  !  why  will  ye  torsake  it 

At  pale  Evening's  call  ? 

In  the  arching  thickets  linger, 

]n  the  woodland  aisle. 
Gilding  them  with  trembling  finger. 

Yet  a  little  while. 

Then,  your  last  calm  radiance  pouring, 

Bid  the  earth  good-night ; 
Like  a  sainted  spirit  soaring 

To  a  home  of  light. 

'Cbe  Star  Sbowcr. 

NOVEMBER  14,  1866. 

Oh  !  to  raise  a  mighty  shout. 
And  bid  the  sleepers  all  come  out ! 
No  dreamer's  fancy,  fair  and  high, 
Could  image  forth  a  grander  sky. 
And  oh  for  eyes  of  swifter  power 
To  follow  fast  the  starry  shower ! 


5*  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Oh  for  a  sweep  of  vision  clear 
To  grasp  at  once  a  hemisphere  ! 

The  solemn  old  chorale  of  Night, 

With  fullest  chords  of  awful  might, 

Re-echoes  still  in  stately  march 

Throughout  the  glowing  heavenly  arch  : 

But  harmonies  all  new  and  rare 

Are  intermingling  everywhere, 

Fantastic,  fitful,  fresh,  and  free ; 

A  sparkling  wealth  of  melody, 

A  carol  of  sublimest  glee, 

Is  bursting  from  the  starry  chorus, 

In  dazzling  exultation  o'er  us. 

O  wondrous  sight !  so  swift,  so  bright, 

Like  sudden  thrills  of  strange  delight ; 

As  if  the  stars  were  all  at  play, 

And  kept  ecstatic  holiday ; 

As  if  it  were  a  jubilee 

Of  glad  millenniums  fully  told. 

Or  universal  sympathy 

With  some  new-dawning  age  of  gold. 

Flashing  from  the  lordly  Lion, 
Flaming  under  bright  Procyon, 
From  the  farthest  east  up-ranging. 
Past  the  blessed  orb  ^  unchanging ; 
Ursa's  brilliance  far  out-gleaming. 
From  the  very  zenith  streaming ; 

I  'That  admirable  Polar  Star,  which  is  a  blessing  to  astronomers. '- 
Professor  Airy's  Popular  Lectures  on  Astronomy. 


THE  STAR  SHOWER.  t,^ 

Rushing,  as  in  joy  delirious, 
To  the  pure  white  ray  of  Sirius ; 
Past  Orion's  belted  splendour. 
Past  Capella,  clear  and  tender ; 
Lightening  dusky  Polar  regions, 
Brightening  pale  encircling  legions  ; 
Lines  of  fiery  glitter  tracing. 
Parting,  meeting,  interlacing; 
Paling  every  constellation 
With  their  radiant  revelation  1 
All  we  heard  of  meteor  glory 
Is  a  true  and  sober  story  ; 
Who  will  not  for  life  remember 
This  night  grandeur  of  November  ? 


'T  is  over  now,  the  once-seen,  drearii-like  sight ! 

With  gradual  hand  the  clear  and  breezy  dawn 

Hath  o'er  the  marvels  of  the  meteor  night 

A  veil  of  light  impenetrable  drawn. 

And  earth  is  sweeping  on  through  starless  space. 

Nor  may  we  once  look  back,  the  shining  field  to  trace. 

Ere  next  the  glittering  stranger-throng  we  meet, 
How  many  a  star  of  life  will  seek  the  west ! 
Our  century's  dying  pulse  will  faintly  beat  \ 
The  toilers  of  to-day  will  be  at  rest ; 
And  little  ones,  who  now  but  laugh  and  play. 
Will  weary  in  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day. 

Oh,  is  there  nothing  beautiful  and  glad 
But  bears  a  message  of  decay  and  change? 


54  THE  MINISTR  Y  OF  SONG. 


So  be  it !     Though  we  call  it  stern  and  sad, 

"Viewed  by  the  torch  of  Love,  it  is  not  strange, 

'T  is  mercy  that  in  Nature's  every  strain 

Deep  warning  tones  peal  out,  in  solemn  sweet  refrain. 

And  have  not  all  created  things  a  voice 

For  those  who  listen  farther, — whispers  low 

To  bid  the  children  of  the  hght  rejoice 

In  burning  hopes  they  yet  but  dimly  know? 

^Vhat  will  it  be,  all  earthly  darkness  o'er, 

1 0  shine  as  stars  of  God  for  ever — evermore  ! 


treasure  Urove^ 

I  PLAYED  with  the  whispering  rushes. 

By  a  river  of  reverie, 
Flowing  so  quietly  onward 

Into  an  unknown  sea. 

And  I  watched  the  dreamy  current, 

Till  to  my  feet  it  brought. 
Glistening  among  the  pebbles. 

The  pearl  of  a  fair  new  thought. 

New  !  yet  many  another, 

Leaning  over  the  stream, 
May  have  welcomed  its  sudden  shining, 

And  gazed  on  its  gentle  gleam. 

Long  it  must  have  been  lying, 

Yet  it  is  new  to  me. 
Oh  the  treasures  around  us, 

Tf  we  could  only  see  1 


COMING  SUMMER.  55 


I  have  broken  the  smooth  dark  water 
Into  ripples  and  circles  bright. 

Lifting  my  pearl  from  the  pebbles, 
Bearing  away  its  light. 

I  am  so  glad  to  have  found  it ! 

I  shall  treasure  it  safely  a  while, 
It  will  brighten  the  niche  that  is  darkest 

In  my  spirit's  loneliest  aisle. 

And  then,  it  may  be,  a  dear  one 
Will  wear  it,  a  long,  long  time, 

Fastened  firm  on  her  bosom, 
In  a  setting  of  silver  rhyme. 


Coinino  Summer. 

What  will  the  summer  bring? 

Sunshine  and  flowers, 
Brightness  and  melody. 

Golden-voiced  hours ; 
Rose-gleaming  mornings 

Vocal  with  praise ; 
Crimson-flushed  evenings, 

Nightingale  lays. 

What  may  the  summer  bring? 

Gladness  and  mirth, 
Laughter  and  song, 

For  the  children  of  earth ; 
Smiles  for  the  old  man, 

Joy  for  the  strong, 


56  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


Glee  for  the  little  ones 
All  the  day  long. 

What  will  the  summer  bring  ? 

Coolness  and  shade, 
Eloquent  stillness 

In  thicket  and  glade ; 
Whispering  breezes, 

Fragrance  oppressed ; 
Lingering  twilight 

Soothing  to  rest. 

What  may  the  summer  bring  ? 

Freshness  and  calm 
To  the  care-worn  and  troubled, 

Beauty  and  balm. 
O  toil-weary  spirit, 

Rest  thee  anew, 
For  the  heat  of  the  world-race 

Summer  hath  dew ! 

What  will  the  summer  bring  I 

Sultry  noon  hours. 
Lurid  horizons. 

Frowning  cloud-towers ! 
Loud-crashing  thunders, 

Tempest  and  hail, 
Death-bearing  lightnings, 

It  brings  without  fail. 

What  may  the  summer  bring  ? 
Dimness  and  woe, 


SEPTEMBER  i86S,  57 


Blackness  of  sorrow 

Its  bright  days  may  know ; 

Flowers  may  be  wormwood, 
Verdure  a  pall, 

The  shadow  of  death 
On  the  fairest  may  fall. 

Is  it  not  ever  so? 

Where  shall  we  find 
Light  that  may  cast 

No  shadow  behind  ? 
Calm  that  no  tempest 

May  darkly  await? 
Joy  that  no  sorrow 

May  swiftly  abate? 

Will  the  story  of  summer 

Be  written  in  light, 
Or  traced  in  the  darkness 

Of  storm-cloud  and  night  ? 
We  know  not — we  would  not  know 

Why  should  we  quail  ? 
Summer,  we  welcome  thee! 

Summer,  all  hail ! 

September  1868. 

An  April  burst  of  beauty, 

And  a  May  like  the  Mays  of  old, 

And  a  glow  of  summer  gladness 
While  June  her  long  days  told; 

And  a  hush  of  golden  silence 
All  through  the  bright  July, 


58  THE  MINISTR  V  OF  SONG. 

Without  one  peal  of  thunder, 

Or  a  storm-wreath  in  the  sky ; 
And  a  fiery  reign  of  August, 

Till  the  moon  was  on  the  wane ; 
And  then  short  clouded  evenings, 

And  a  long  and  chilling  rain. 
I  thought  the  summer  was  over, 

And  the  whole  year's  glory  spent. 
And  that  nothing  but  fog  and  drizzle 

Could  be  for  Autumn  meant ; — 
Nothing  but  dead  leaves,  falling 

Wet  on  the  dark,  damp  mould, 
Less  and  less  of  the  sunshine, 

More  and  more  of  the  cold. 


But  oh  !  the  golden  day-time ; 

And  oh  !  the  silver  nights ; 
And  the  scarlet  touch  on  the  fir  trunks 

Of  the  calm,  grand  sunset  lights ; 
And  the  morning's  bright  revealings, 

Lifting  the  pearly  mist. 
Like  a  bridal  veil,  from  the  valley 

That  the  sun  hath  claimed  and  kissed ; 
And  oh  !  the  noontide  shadows 

Longer  and  longer  now. 
On  the  river  margin  resting, 

Like  the  tress  on  a  thoughtful  brovA. 
Rich  fruitage  bends  the  branches 

With  amber,  and  rose,  and  gold, 
O'er  the  purple  and  crimson  asters, 

And  geraniums  gay  and  bold. 


EARLY  FAITH.  59 


The  day  is  warm  and  glowing, 

But  the  night  is  cool  and  sweet, 
And  we  fear  no  smiting  arrows 

Of  fierce  and  fatal  heat. 
The  leaves  are  only  dropping, 

Like  flakes  of  a  sunset  cloud. 
And  the  robin's  song  is  clearer 

Than  Spring's  own  minstrel-crowd. 
A  soft  new  robe  of  greenness 

Decks  every  sunny  mead, 
And  we  own  that  bright  September 

Is  beautiful  indeed. 

Is  thy  life-summer  passing? 

Think  not  thy  joys  are  o'er ! 
Thou  hast  not  seen  what  Autumn 

For  thee  may  have  in  store. 
Calmer  than  breezy  April, 

Cooler  than  August  blaze, 
The  fairest  time  of  all  may  be 

September's  golden  days. 
Press  on,  though  summer  waneth. 

And  falter  not,  nor  fear, 
For  God  can  make  the  Autumn 

The  glory  of  the  year. 


Whom  hear  we  tell  of  all  the  joy  which  loving  Faith  can 

bring, 
The  ever-widening  glories  reached  on  her  strong  seraph 

wing? 


6o  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Is  it  not  oftenest  they  who  long  have  wrestled  with  tempta- 
tion, 
Or  passed  through  fiery  baptisms  of  mighty  tribulation  ? 

Perhaps,  in  life's  great  tapestry,  the  darkest  scenes  are 

where 
The  golden  threads  of  Faith  glance  forth  most  radiant  and 

fair ; 
And  gazing  on  the  coming  years,  which  unknown  griefs 

may  bring, 
We  hail  the  lamp  which  o'er  them  all  shall  heavenly  lustre 

fling. 

Thank  God  !  there  is  at  eventide  a  gleam  of  ruby  light, 
A.  star  of  love  amid  the  gloom  of  sorrow's  lingering  night, 
An  ivy-wreath  upon  the  tomb,  a  haven  in  the  blast, 
A  staff  for  weary,  trembling  ones,  when  youth  and  health 
are  past. 

But  shall  we  seek  the  diamonds  in  the  lone  and  dusky 

mine. 
When  'mid  the  sunny  sands  of  youth  they  wait  to  flash 

and  shine? 
Neglect  the  fountain  of  Christ's  joy  till  woe-streams  darkly 

flow, 
Nor  seek  a  Father's  smile  until  the  world's  cold  frown  we 

know  ? 

Nay  !  be  our  faith  the  rosy  crown  on  morn's  unwrinkled 

brow. 
The  sparkling  dewdrop  on  the  grass,  the  blossom  on  the 

bough ; 


OUR  FATHER.  6i 


The  gleam  of  pearly  light  within  the  snowy-bosomed  shell ; 
An  added  power  of  loveliness  in  beauty's  every  spell. 

Oh,  let  it  be  the  sunlight  of  the  pleasant  summer  hours, 
That  calls  to  pure  and  radiant  birth  unnumbered  fragrant 

flowers ; 
That  bathes  in  golden  joyance  every  anthem-murmuring 

tree, 
And  spreads  a  robe  of  glory  o'er  the  silver-crested  sea. 

Oh,  let  it  be  the  key-note  of  the  symphony  of  gladness. 
Which  wots  not  of  the  broken  lyre,  the  requiem  of  sadness : 
For  they  who  melodies  of  heaven  in  hours  of  brightness 

know, 
Will  modulate  sweet  harmony  from  earth's  discordant  woe. 


©ur  jfatber, 

'Oh  that  I  loved  the  Father 

With  depth  of  conscious  love. 
As  stedfast,  bright,  and  burning. 

As  seraphim  above  ! 
But  how  can  I  be  deeming 

Myself  a  loving  child, 
When  here,  and  there,  and  everywhere. 

My  thoughts  are  wandering  wild  ? 

'  It  is  my  chief  desire 

To  know  Him  more  and  more, 
To  follow  Him  more  fully 

Than  I  have  done  before : 


62  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

My  eyes  are  dim  with  longing 

To  see  the  Lord  above  ; 
But  oh  !  I  fear  from  year  to  year, 

I  do  not  truly  love. 

'  For  when  I  try  to  follow 

The  mazes  of  my  soul, 
I  find  no  settled  fire  of  love 

Illumining  the  whole  \ 
'Tis  all  uncertain  twilight, 

No  clear  and  vivid  glow  : 
Would  I  could  bring  to  God  my  King 

The  perfect  love  I  owe  ! ' 

The  gift  is  great  and  holy, 

'Twill  not  be  sought  in  vain ; 
But  look  up  for  a  moment 

From  present  doubt  and  pain, 
And  calmly  tell  me  how  you  love 

The  dearest  ones  below  ? 
'This  love,'  say  you,  'is  deep  and  true  I' 

But  tell  me  how  you  know? 


How  do  you  love  your  father  ? 

'  Oh,  in  a  thousand  ways  ! 
I  think  there's  no  one  like  him, 

So  worthy  of  my  praise. 
I  tell  him  all  my  troubles. 

And  ask  him  what  to  do  ; 
I  know  that  he  will  give  to  me 

His  counsel  kind  and  true. 


OUR  FATHER.  63 


'  Then  every  little  service 

Of  hand,  or  pen,  or  voice, 
Becomes,  if  he  has  asked  it. 

The  service  of  my  choice. 
And  from  my  own  desires 

'T  is  not  so  hard  to  part, 
If  once  I  know  I  follow  so 

His  wiser  will  and  heart. 

'  I  know  the  flush  of  pleasure 

That  o'er  my  spirit  came, 
When  far  from  home  with  strangers, 

They  caught  my  father's  name ; 
And  for  his  sake  the  greeting 

Was  mutual  and  sweet, 
For  if  they  knew  my  father  too, 

How  glad  we  were  to  meet ! 

*  And  when  I  heard  them  praising 

His  music  and  his  skill. 
His  words  of  holy  teaching, 

Life-preaching,  holier  still, 
How  eagerly  I  listened 

To  every  word  that  fell ! 
'Twas  joy  to  hear  that  name  so  dear 

Both  known  and  loved  so  well. 

'  Once  I  was  ill  and  suffering 

Upon  a  foreign  shore, 
And  longed  to  see  my  father, 

As  I  never  longed  before. 


64  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

He  came  :  his  arm  around  me  ; 

I  leant  upon  his  breast ; 
I  did  not  long  to  feel  more  strong, 

So  sweet  that  childlike  rest, 

'  The  thought  of  home  is  pleasant, 

Yet  I  should  hardly  care 
To  leave  my  present  fair  abode, 

Unless  I  knew  him  there. 
All  other  love  and  pleasure 

Can  never  crown  the  place, 
A  home  to  me  it  cannot  be 

Without  my  father's  face.' 

This  is  no  fancy  drawing, 

But  every  line  is  true. 
And  you  have  traced  as  strong  a  love 

As  ever  daughter  knew. 
But  though  its  fond  expression 

Is  rather  hved  than  told, 
You  do  not  say  from  day  to  day, 

'  I  fear  my  love  is  cold  ! ' 

You  do  not  think  about  it; 

'Tis  never  in  your  thought — 
*  I  wonder  if  I  love  him 

As  deeply  as  I  ought  ? 
I  know  his  approbation 

Outweighs  all  other  meed, 
That  his  employ  is  always  joy, 

But  do  I  love  indeed  ? ' 


OUR  FATHER.  65 


Now  let  your  own  words  teach  you 

The  higher,  hoUer  clami 
Of  Him,  who  condescends  to  bear 

A  Father's  gracious  name. 
No  mystic  inspiration, 

No  throbbings  forced  and  wild 
He  asks,  but  just  the  loving  trust 

Of  a  glad  and  grateful  child. 

The  rare  and  precious  moments 

Of  realizing  thrill 
Are  but  love's  blissful  blossom, 

To  brighten,  not  to  fill 
The  storehouse  and  the  garner 

With  ripe  and  pleasant  fruit ; 
And  not  alone  by  these  is  shown 

The  true  and  holy  root. 

What  if  your  own  dear  father 

Were  summoned  to  his  rest ! 
One  lives,  by  whom  that  bitterest  grief 

Could  well  be  soothed  and  blessed. 
Like  balm  upon  your  sharpest  woe 

His  still  small  voice  would  fall ; 
His  touch  would  heal,  you  could  not  feel 

That  you  had  lost  your  all. 

But  what  if  He,  the  Lord  of  life, 

Could  ever  pass  away  ! 
What  if  Ilis  name  were  blotted  out 

And  you  could  know  to-day 

E 


66  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

There  was  no  heavenly  Father, 
No  Saviour  dear  and  true, 

No  throne  of  grace,  no  resting-place^ 
No  living  God  for  you  ! 

We  need  not  dwell  in  horror 

On  what  can  never  be, 
Such  endless  desolation, 

Such  undreamt  misery. 
Our  reason  could  not  bear  it, 

And  all  the  love  of  earth. 
In  fullest  bliss,  compared  with  this, 

Were  nothing,  nothing  worth. 

Then  bring  your  poor  affection, 

And  try  it  by  this  test ; 
The  hidden  depth  is  fathomed, 

You  see  you  love  Him  best! 
'Tis  but  a  feeble  echo 

Of  His  great  love  to  you, 
Yet  in  His  ear  each  note  is  dear, 

Its  harmony  is  true. 

It  is  an  uncut  jewel, 

All  earth-encrusted  now, 
But  He  will  make  it  glorious, 

And  set  it  on  His  brow  : 
'Tis  but  a  tiny  glimmer, 

Lit  from  the  light  above. 
But  it  shall  blaze  through  endless  days, 

A  star  of  perfect  love. 


DISAPPOINTMENT.  67 


disappointment 

Our  yet  unfinished  story 

Is  tending  all  to  this  : 
To  God  the  greatest  glory, 

To  us  the  greatest  bliss. 

If  all  things  work  together 
For  ends  so  grand  and  blest, 

What  need  to  wonder  whether 
Each  in  itself  is  best ! 

If  some  things  were  omitted 
Or  altered  as  we  would, 

The  whole  might  be  unfitted 
To  work  for  perfect  good. 

Our  plans  may  be  disjointed, 
But  we  may  calmly  rest ; 

What  God  has  once  appointed 
Is  better  than  our  best. 

We  cannot  see  before  us, 
But  our  all-seeing  Friend 

Is  always  watching  o'er  us, 
And  knows  the  very  end. 

What  though  we  seem  to  stumble? 

He  will  not  let  us  fall ; 
And  learning  to  be  humble 

Is  not  lost  time  at  all. 


68  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

What  though  we  fondly  reckoned 

A  smoother  way  to  go 
Than  where  His  hand  has  beckoned  ? 

It  will  be  better  so. 

What  only  seemed  a  barrier 
A  stepping-stone  shall  be  ; 

Our  God  is  no  long  tarrier, 
A  present  help  is  He. 

And  when  amid  our  blindness 
His  disappointments  fall, 

We  trust  His  loving-kindness 
Whose  wisdom  sends  them  all. 

They  are  the  purple  fringes 
That  hide  His  glorious  feet ; 

They  are  the  fire-wrought  hinges 
Where  truth  and  mercy  meet , 

By  them  the  golden  portal 
Of  Providence  shall  ope, 

And  lift  to  praise  immortal 
The  songs  of  faith  and  hope. 

From  broken  alabaster 

Was  deathless  fragrance  shed. 

The  spikenard  flowed  the  faster 
Upon  the  Saviour's  head. 

No  shattered  box  of  ointment 
We  ever  need  regret, 


THE  SONG  CHALICE.  69 

For  out  of  disappointment 
Flow  sweetest  odours  yet 

The  discord  that  involveth 

Some  startling  change  of  key, 
The  Master's  hand  resolveth 

In  richest  harmony. 

We  hush  our  children's  laughter, 

When  sunset  hues  grow  pale  \ 
Then,  in  the  silence  after, 

They  hear  the  nightingale. 

We  mourned  the  lamp  declining, 
That  glimmered  at  our  side ; — 

The  glorious  starlight  shining 
Has  proved  a  surer  guide. 

Then  tremble  not  and  shrink  not 

When  Disappointment  nears ; 
Be  trustful  still,  and  think  not 

To  realize  all  fears. 

While  we  are  meekly  kneeling, 

We  shall  behold  her  rise, 
Our  Father's  love  revealing, 

An  angel  in  disguise. 

tTbe  Song  Cbaltcc. 

*  You  bear  the  chalice.'     Is  it  so,  my  friend? 
Have  I  indeed  a  chalice  of  sweet  song, 
With  underflow  of  harmony  made  strong 

New  calm  of  strength  through  throbbing  veins  to  send? 


70  THE  MINISTR  V  OF  SONG. 

I  did  not  form  or  fill, — I  do  but  spend 

That  which  the  Master  poured  into  my  soul, 
His  dewdrops  caught  in  a  poor  earthen  bowl, 

That  service  so  with  praise  might  meekly  blend. 

May  He  who  taught  the  morning  stars  to  sing, 

Aye  keep  my  chalice  cool,  and  pure,  and  sweet, 

And  grant  me  so  with  loving  hand  to  bring 
Refreshment  to  His  weary  ones, — to  meet 

Their  thirst  with  water  from  God's  music-spring  ; 
And,  bearing  thus,  to  pour  it  at  His  feet 


Silent  in  XoY>e» 

'HE  WILL  rest!   in   HIS  LOVE.' 

Love  cuhninates  in  bliss  when  it  doth  reach 

A  white,  unflickering,  fear-consuming  glow ; 
And,  knowing  it  is  known  as  it  doth  know. 

Needs  no  assuring  word  or  soothing  speech. 

It  craves  but  silent  nearness,  so  to  rest, 

No  sound,  no  movement,  love  not  heard  but  feit, 
Longer  and  longer  still,  till  time  should  melt, 

A  snow-flake  on  the  eternal  ocean's  breast. 

Have  moments  of  this  silence  starred  thy  past. 

Made  memory  a  glory-haunted  place, 

Taught  all  the  joy  that  mortal  ken  can  trace? 
By  greater  light  't  is  but  a  shadow  cast ; — 

So  shall  the  Lord  thy  God  rejoice  o'er  thee. 

And  in  His  love  will  rest,  and  silent  be. 

^  Marginal  reading — '  ie  silent.' 


LIGHT  AND  SHADE.  7 1 


Xfgbt  ant)  SbaDe. 

Light  !  emblem  of  all  good  and  joy  1 

Shade  !  emblem  of  all  ill ! 
And  yet  in  this  strange  mingled  life, 

We  need  the  shadow  still. 
A  lamp  with  softly  shaded  light, 
To  soothe  and  spare  the  tender  sight, 
Will  only  throw 
A  brighter  glow 
Upon  our  books  and  work  below. 

We  could  not  bear  unchanging  day, 

However  fair  its  light ; 
Ere  long  the  wearied  eye  would  hail. 
As  boon  untold,  the  evening  pale. 

The  solace  of  the  night 
And  who  would  prize  our  summer  glow 
If  winter  gloom  we  did  not  know  ? 
Or  rightly  praise 
The  glad  spring  rays 
Who  never  saw  our  rainy  days? 

How  grateful  in  Arabian  plain 
Of  white  and  sparkling  sand, 
The  shadow  of  a  mighty  rock 

Across  the  weary  land ! 
And  where  the  tropic  glories  rise. 
Responsive  to  the  fiery  skies. 
We  could  not  dare 
To  meet  the  glare. 
Or  blindness  were  our  bitter  share. 


72  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


Where  is  the  soul  so  meek  and  pure, 

Who  through  his  earthly  days 
Life's  fullest  sunshine  could  endure, 

In  clear  and  cloudless  blaze  ! 
The  sympathetic  eye  would  dim, 
And  others  pine  unmarked  by  him, 
Were  no  chill  shade 
Around  him  laid, 
And  light  of  joy  could  never  fade. 

He,  who  the  light-commanding  word 

Erst  spake,  and  formed  the  eye, 
Knows  what  that  wondrous  eye  can  bear, 
And  tempers  with  providing  care. 
By  cloud  and  night,  all  hurtful  glare, 

By  shadows  ever  nigh. 
So  in  all  wise  and  loving  ways 
He  blends  the  shadows  of  our  days. 
To  win  our  sight 
From  scenes  of  night. 
To  seek  the  '  True  and  Only  Light.' 

We  need  some  shadow  o'er  our  bliss. 

Lest  we  forget  the  Giver  : 
So,  often  in  our  deepest  joy 

There  comes  a  solemn  quiver ; 
We  could  not  tell  from  whence  it  came, 
The  subtle  cause  we  cannot  name ; 
Its  twilight  fall 
May  well  recall 
Calm  thought  of  Him  who  gave  us  all 


NO  THORN  WITHOUT  A  ROSE.  73 

There  are  who  all  undazzled  tread 

Awhile  the  sunniest  plain ; 
But  they  have  sought  the  blessed  shade 
By  one  great  Rock  of  Ages  made, 

A  sure,  safe  rest  to  gain. 
Unshaded  light  of  earth  soon  blinds 
To  light  of  heaven  sincerest  minds  : 
O  envy  not 
A  cloudless  lot ! 
We  ask  indeed  we  know  not  what 

So  is  it  here,  so  is  it  now  ! 

Not  always  will  it  be  ! 
There  is  a  land  that  needs  no  shade, 
A  morn  will  rise  which  cannot  fade, 
And  we,  like  flame-robed  angels  made, 

That  glory  soon  may  see. 
No  cloud  upon  its  radiant  joy, 
No  shadow  o'er  its  bright  employ, 
No  sleep,  no  night, 
But  perfect  sight, 
The  Lord  our  Everlasting  Light. 


IRo  Uborn  witbout  a  IRose, 

*  There  is  no  rose  without  a  thorn  ! ' 
Who  has  not  found  this  true. 

And  known  that  griefs  of  gladness  born 
Our  footsteps  still  pursue  ? 

That  in  the  grandest  harmony 
The  strangest  discords  rise; 


74  THE  MINISTR  Y  OF  SONG. 

The  brightest  bow  we  only  trace 
Upon  the  darkest  skies ! 

No  thornless  rose  !     So,  more  and  more, 
Our  pleasant  hopes  are  laid 

Where  waves  this  sable  legend  o'er 
A  still  sepulchral  shade. 

But  Faith  and  Love,  with  angel-might, 
Break  up  life's  dismal  tomb, 

Transmuting  into  golden  light 
The  words  of  leaden  gloom. 

Reversing  all  this  funeral  pall, 
White  raiment  they  disclose ; 

Their  happy  song  floats  full  and  long, 
*  No  thorn  without  a  rose  ! 

'  No  shadow,  but  its  sister  light 

Not  far  away  must  burn  ! 
No  weary  night,  but  morning  bright 

Shall  follow  in  its  turn. 

'  No  chilly  snow,  but  safe  below 
A  million  buds  are  sleeping : 

No  wintry  days,  but  fair  spring  rays 
Are  swiftly  onward  sweeping. 

*  With  fiercest  glare  of  sumiTier  air 
Comes  fullest  leafy  shade ; 

And  ruddy  fruit  bends  every  shoot, 
Because  the  blossoms  fade. 


NO  THORN  WITHOUT  A  ROSS.  75 


*  No  note  of  sorrow  but  shall  melt 

In  sweetest  chord  unguessed ; 
No  labour  all  too  pressing  felt, 
But  ends  in  quiet  rest. 

*  No  sigh  but  from  the  harps  above 

Soft  echoing  tones  shall  win ; 
No  heart-wound  but  the  Lord  of  Love 
Shall  pour  His  comfort  in. 

'  No  withered  hope,  while  loving  best 

Thy  Father's  chosen  way ; 
No  anxious  care,  for  He  will  bear 

Thy  burdens  every  day. 

'  Thy  claim  to  rest  on  Jesu's  breast 

All  weariness  shall  be. 
And  pain  thy  portal  to  His  heart 

Of  boundless  sympathy. 

*  No  conflict,  but  the  King's  own  hand 

Shall  end  the  glorious  strife ; 
No  death,  but  leads  thee  to  the  land 
Of  everlasting  life.' 

Sweet  seraph  voices.  Faith  and  Love ! 

Sing  on  within  our  hearts 
This  strain  of  music  from  above, 

Till  we  have  learnt  our  parts  : 

Until  we  see  your  alchemy 

On  all  that  years  disclose, 
And,  taught  by  you,  still  find  it  true, 

•  No  thorn  without  a  rose  ! ' 


76  THE  MINISTR  Y  OF  SONG. 

l^esterba^,  tTo^Da^,  anb  tor  Bver^ 

A   GREEK  ACROSTIC,    THRICE  TRIPLED. 
As/.' 

A  H  !  the  weary  cares  and  fears, 

E  arnest  yearnings  through  the  years  I 

I  s  it  not  a  vale  of  tears  ? 

A  h  !  the  love  we  gladly  greet 
E  ver  now  is  incomplete ; 
I  f  the  melody  be  sweet, 

A  nd  the  harmony  be  true, 

E  arlier  loss  is  more  in  view,  ' 

I   11  forebodings  shadow  through. 


A  fter  wintry  frost  and  rime, 
E  ven  now,  the  heavenly  chime 
I  s  a  pledge  of  summer  time. 

A  nchorage  within  the  veil, 
E  ver  stedfast,  cannot  fail, 
I  f  the  wildest  storms  assail. 

A  ngel  songs  of  love  are  clearer, 
E  arth  is  brighter,  death  is  dearer, 
I  f  the  heavenly  home  be  nearer. 


A  11  in  perfect  union  brought, 
E  very  link  which  God  has  wrought 
I   n  the  chains  of  loving  thought ; 
'  For  ever. 


CHRIST'S  RECALL.  TJ 


A  11  our  dear  ones,  far  asunder, 

E  ach  shall  join  the  anthem-thunder 

I  n  our  future  joy  and  wonder. 

A  11  shall  come  where  nought  shall  sever, 
E  ndless  meeting,  parting  never, 
I  n  God's  house  to  dwell  for  ever. 


Cbrist'5  IRecall. 

Return  ! 
O  wanderer  from  My  side ! 
Soon  droops  each  blossom  of  the  darkening  wild, 
Soon  melts  each  meteor  which  thy  steps  beguiled, 
Soon  is  the  cistern  dry  which  thou  hast  hewn, 
And  thou  wilt  weep  in  bitterness  full  soon. 
Return  !  ere  gathering  night  shall  shroud  the  way 
Thy  footsteps  yet  may  tread,  in  this  accepted  day. 

Return  ! 
O  erring,  yet  beloved  ! 
I  wait  to  bind  thy  bleeding  feet,  for  keen 
And  rankling  are  the  thorns  where  thou  hast  been ; 
I  wait  to  give  thee  pardon,  love,  and  rest ; 
Is  not  My  joy  to  see  thee  safe  and  blest  ? 
Return  !     I  wait  to  hear  once  more  thy  voice, 
To  welcome  thee  anew,  and  bid  thy  heart  rejoice. 

Return  ! 
O  fallen,  yet  not  lost ! 
Canst  thou  forget  the  life  for  thee  laid  down, 
The  taunts,  the  scourging,  and  the  thorny  crown  ? 


78  7'HE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


When  o'er  thee  first  My  spotless  robe  I  spread, 
And  poured  the  oil  of  joy  upon  thy  head, 
How  did  thy  wakening  heart  within  thee  burn  ! 
Canst  thou  remember  all,  and  wilt  thou  not  return  ? 

Return  ! 
O  chosen  of  My  love ! 
Fear  not  to  meet  thy  beckoning  Saviour's  view ; 
Long  ere  I  called  thee  by  thy  name,  I  knew 
That  very  treacherously  thou  wouldst  deal; 
Now  I  have  seen  thy  ways,  yet  I  will  heal. 
Return  !     Wilt  thou  yet  hnger  far  from  Me  ? 
My  wrath  is  turned  away,  I  have  redeemed  thee. 

jfaitb's  (Sluestfon. 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go 

For  life,  and  joy,  and  light? 
No  help,  no  comfort  from  below, 
No  lasting  gladness  we  may  know, 

No  hope  may  bless  our  sight. 
Our  souls  are  weary  and  athirst. 
But  earth  is  iron-bound  and  cursed. 
And  nothing  she  may  yield  can  stay 
The  restless  yearnings  day  by  day ; 
Yet,  without  Thee,  Redeemer  blest, 
We  would  not,  if  we  could,  find  rest. 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go  ? 

We  gaze  around  in  vain. 
Though  pleasure's  fairy  lute  be  strung, 
And  mirth's  enchaining  lay  be  sung, 

We  dare  not  trust  the  strain. 


FAITH'S  QUESTION.  79 


The  touch  of  sorrow  or  of  sin 
Hath  saddened  all,  without,  within ; 
What  here  we  fondly  love  and  prize, 
However  beauteous  be  its  guise, 
Has  passed,  is  passing,  or  may  pass. 
Like  frost-fringe  on  the  autumn  grass. 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go  ? 

Our  spirits  dimly  wait 
In  the  dungeon  of  our  mortal  frame ; 
And  only  one  of  direful  name 

Can  force  its  sin-barred  gate. 
Our  loved  ones  can  but  greet  us  through 
The  prison  gate,  from  which  we  view 
All  outward  things.     They  enter  not : 
Thou,  Thou  alone,  canst  -cheer  our  lot. 
O  Christ,  we  long  for  Thee  to  dwell 
Within  our  solitary  cell ! 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go  ? 

Unless  Thy  voice  we  hear. 
All  tuneless  falls  the  sweetest  song, 
And  lonely  seems  the  busiest  throng 

Unless  we  feel  Thee  near. 
We  dare  not  think  what  earth  would  be. 
Thou  Heaven-Creator,  but  for  Thee ; 
A  howling  chaos,  wild  and  dark — 
One  flood  of  horror,  while  no  ark. 
Upborne  above  the  gloom-piled  wave. 
From  one  great  death-abyss  might  save. 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go  ? 
The  Tempters  power  is  great ; 


8o  THE  MINISTR  Y  OF  SONG. 


E'en  in  our  hearts  is  evil  bound, 
And,  lurking  stealthily  around, 

Still  for  our  souls  doth  wait. 
Thou  tempted  One,  whose  suffering  heart 
In  all  our  sorrows  bore  a  part. 
Whose  life-blood  only  could  atone, 
Too  weak  are  we  to  stand  alone ; 
And  nothing  but  Thy  shield  of  light 
Can  guard  us  in  the  dreaded  fight. 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go  ? 

The  night  of  death  draws  near ; 
Its  shadow  must  be  passed  alone. 
No  friend  can  with  our  souls  go  down 

The  untried  way  to  cheer. 
Thou  hast  the  words  of  endless  life ; 
Thou  givest  victory  in  the  strife  ; 
Thou  only  art  the  changeless  Friend, 
On  whom  for  aye  we  may  depend : 
In  life,  in  death,  alike  we  flee, 
O  Saviour  of  the  world,  to  Thee. 


*  5  Mb  tbis  tor  tbee!   Mbat  bast  tbou 
t)onc  for  /Il>e?' 

(MOTTO   PLACED   UNDER   A   PICTURE  OF  OUR   SAVIOUR   IN   THE 
STUDY  OF   A  GERMAN   DIVINE.) 

I  GAVE  My  life  for  thee,  cai.  u.  20. 

My  precious  blood  1  shed,  i  Pet.  i.  19. 


•/  DID  THIS  FOR  THEE: 


81 


That  thou  raight'st  ransomed  be,  Eph.  i.  7. 

And  quickened  from  the  dead.  Eph.  ii.  i. 

I  gave  My  life  for  thee  ;  Tit.  ii.  14. 

What  hast  thou  given  for  Me?  johnxxi.  15-17. 

I  spent  long  years  for  thee  i  xim.  i.  15. 

In  weariness  and  woe,  isa.  liii.  3. 

That  an  eternity  John  xvii.  24. 

Of  joy  thou  mightest  know.  john  xvi.  22. 

I  spent  long  years  for  thee ;  John  i.  10,  n. 

Hast  thou  spent  one  for  Me  ?  »  Pet.  iv.  2. 

My  Father's  home  of  light,  john  xvii.  5. 

My  rainbow-circled  throne,  Rev.  iv.  3. 

I  left,  for  earthly  night,  phii.  ii.  7. 

For  wanderings  sad  and  lone.  Matt.  vii.  20. 

I  left  it  all  for  thee ;  2  Cor.  viii.  9. 

Hast  thou  left  aught  for  Me  ?  Luke  x.  29. 

I  suffered  much  for  thee,  isa.  mi.  5. 

More  than  thy  tongue  may  tell,  M.-itt.  xxvi.  39. 

Of  bitterest  agony,  Luke  xxii.  44. 

To  rescue  thee  from  hell.  Rom.  v.  9. 

I  suffered  much  for  thee  ;  i  ?ct.  ii.  21-24. 

What  canst  thou  bear  for  Me  ?  Rom.  viii.  17,  i a. 


And  I  have  brought  to  thee, 
Down  from  My  home  above, 

Salvation  full  and  free, 
My  pardon  and  My  love. 

Great  gifts  I  brought  to  thee ; 
What  hast  thou  brought  to  Mc  ? 


John  iv.  10,  14. 
John  iii.  13. 
Rev.  XXI.  6. 
Acts  v.  3t. 
Ps.  Ixviii.  18. 
Rom.  xii.  I. 


82  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Oh,  let  thy  life  be  given,  Rom.  vi.  13. 

Thy  years  for  Him  be  spent,  2  Cor.  v.  15. 

World-fetters  all  be  riven,  phii.  iii.  8. 

And  joy  with  suffering  blent ;  i  Pet.  iv.  13-10. 

I  gave  Myself  for  thee  :  Eph.  v.  2. 

Give  thou  thyself  to  Me  !  Prov.  xxiii.  28. 


Thine  eyes  shall  see  !     Yes,  thine,  who,  blind  erewhile. 
Now  trembling  towards  the  new-found  light  dost  flee, 
Leave  doubting,  and  look  up  with  trustful  smile — 

Thme  eyes  shall  see  ! 

Thine  eyes  shall  see !     Not  in  some  dream  Elysian, 

Not  in  thy  fancy,  glowing  though  it  be, 
Not  e'en  in  faith,  but  in  unveiled  vision. 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  ! 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  !     Not  on  thyself  depend 
God's  promises,  the  faithful,  firm,  and  free  ; 
Ere  they  shall  fail,  earth,  heaven  itself,  must  end : 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  ! 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  !    Not  in  a  swift  glance  cast, 

Gleaning  one  ray  to  brighten  memory. 
But  while  a  glad  eternity  shall  last, 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  ! 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  !     The  very  same 

Whose  love  shone  forth  upon  the  curseful  tree, 
Who  bore  thy  guilt,  who  calleth  thee  by  name ; 

Thine  eyes  shall  see ! 


GOD  THE  PROVIDER.  83 


Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King!  the  mighty  One, 

The  many-crowTied,  the  Light-enrobed ;  and  He 
Shall  bid  thee  share  the  kingdom  He  hath  won, 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  ! 

And  in  His  beauty  1     Stay  thee,  mortal  song. 

The  '  altogether  lovely '  One  must  be 
Unspeakable  in  glory, — yet  ere  long 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  ! 

Yes  !  though  the  land  be  '  very  far  '  away, 

A  step,  a  moment,  ends  the  toil  for  thee ; 
Then,  changing  grief  for  gladness,  night  for  day, 

Thine  eyes  shall  see ! 


60D  tbe  |I^rov>f^er. 

'  My  God  shall  supply  all  your  need,  according  to  His  riches  in  glory 

by  Christ  Jesus.' 

Who  shall  tell  our  untold  need, 

Deeply  felt,  though  scarcely  known  ! 
Who  the  hungering  soul  can  feed. 

Guard,  and  guide,  but  God  alone  ? 
Blessed  promise  !  while  we  see 
Earthly  friends  must  powerless  be, 
Earthly  fountains  quickly  dry  : 
^God^  shall  all  your  need  supply. 

He  hath  said  it !  so  we  know 

Nothing  less  can  we  receive. 
Oh  that  thankful  love  may  glow 

While  we  restfully  believe, — 


84  THE  MINISTR  V  OF  SONG. 

Ask  not  /w7a,  but  trust  Him  still ; 
Ask  not  when,  but  wait  His  will : 
Simply  on  His  word  rely, 
God  's/ia/r  all  your  need  supply. 

Through  the  whole  of  life's  long  way, 

Outward,  inward  need  we  trace  ; 
Need  arising  day  by  day, 

Patience,  wisdom,  strength,  and  grace. 
Needing  Jesus  most  of  all. 
Full  of  need,  on  Him  we  call ; 
Then  how  gracious  His  reply, 
God  shall  '  a// '  your  need  supply  I 

Great  our  need,  but  greater  far 
Is  our  Father's  loving  power ; 

He  upholds  each  mighty  star. 
He  unfolds  each  tiny  flower. 

He  who  numbers  every  hair, 

Earnest  of  His  faithful  care, 

Gave  His  Son  for  us  to  die  ; 

God  shall  all  'your '  need  supply. 

Yet  we  often  vainly  plead 

For  a  fancied  good  denied, 
What  we  deemed  a  pressing  need 

Still  remaining  unsupplied. 
Yet  from  dangers  all  concealed. 
Thus  our  wisest  Friend  doth  shield ; 
No  ^i^ood  thing  will  He  deny, 
God  shall  all  your  *fzced'  supply. 


WAIT  PATIENTLY  FOR  HIM.  85 

Can  we  count  redemption's  treasure, 

Scan  the  glory  of  God's  love  ? 
Such  shall  be  the  boundless  measure 

Of  His  blessings  from  above. 
All  we  ask  or  think,  and  more, 
He  will  give  in  bounteous  store, — 
He  can  fill  and  satisfy  ! 
God  shall  all  your  need  ^supply.'  1 

One  the  channel,  deep  and  broad, 
From  the  Fountain  of  the  Throne, 

Christ  the  Saviour,  Son  of  God, 
Blessings  flow  through  Him  alone. 

He,  the  Faithful  and  the  True, 

Brings  us  mercies  ever  new  : 

Till  we  reach  His  home  on  high, 

*  God  shall  all  your  need  supply.' 


Malt  patientli?  for  1f3lm. 

God  doth  not  bid  thee  wait 

To  disappoint  at  last ; 
A  golden  promise,  fair  and  great, 

In  precept-mould  is  cast. 

Soon  shall  the  morning  gild 

The  dark  horizon-rim, 
Thy  heart's  desire  shall  be  fulfilled, 

'  Wait  patiently  for  Him.' 

•  The  Greek  word  is  much  stronger  than  the  English, — i»A»i{6irji--' will 

supply  to  the  full,'  'fill  up,'  'satisfy.' 


86  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

The  weary  waiting  times 
Are  but  the  muffled  peals 

Low  preluding  celestial  chimes, 
That  hail  His  chariot-wheels. 
Trust  Him  to  tune  thy  voice 
To  blend  with  seraphim ; 

His  '  Wait '  shall  issue  in  *  Rejoice  ! ' 
'  V^d^X.  patiently  for  Him.' 

He  doth  not  bid  thee  wait, 
Like  drift-wood  on  the  wave;, 

For  fickle  chance  or  fixed  fate 
To  ruin  or  to  save. 
Thine  eyes  shall  surely  see, 
No  distant  hope  or  dim. 

The  Lord  thy  God  arise  for  thee  i 
*  Wait  patiently ybr  Him.' 


Ubls  Same  5esus, 

Acts  i.  ii. 

'  This  same  Jesus ! '     Oh  !  how  sweetly 
Fall  those  words  upon  the  ear, 

Like  a  swell  of  far  off  music, 
In  a  nightwatch  still  and  drear  ! 

He  who  healed  the  hopeless  leper, 
He  who  dried  the  widow's  tear ; 

He  who  changed  to  health  and  gladness 
Helpless  suffering,  trembling  fear  ; 


THIS  SAME  JESUS.  87 


He  who  wandered,  poor  and  homeless, 

By  the  stormy  Galilee ; 
He  who  on  the  night-robed  mountain 

Bent  in  prayer  the  wearied  knee  ; 

He  who  spake  as  none  had  spoken, 

Angel-wisdom  far  above, 
All-forgiving,  ne'er  upbraiding, 

Full  of  tenderness  and  love ; 

He  who  gently  called  the  weary, 
'  Come  and  I  will  give  you  rest ! ' 

He  who  loved  the  little  children, 
Took  them  in  His  arms  and  blest ; 

He,  the  lonely  Man  of  sorrows, 
'Neath  our  sin-curse  bending  low  ; 

By  His  faithless  friends  forsaken 
In  the  darkest  hours  of  woe ; — 

'  This  same  Jesus  ! '     When  the  vision 

Of  that  last  and  awful  day 
Bursts  upon  the  prostrate  spirit. 

Like  a  midnight  lightning  ray  ; 

When,  else  dimly  apprehended. 
All  its  terrors  seem  revealed, 

Trumpet  knell  and  fiery  heavens, 
And  the  books  of  doom  unsealed  ; 

Then,  we  lift  our  hearts  adoring 
•This  same  Jesus,'  loved  and  known. 


88  THE  MINISTR  Y  OF  SONG. 

Him,  our  own  most  gracious  Saviour, 
Seated  on  the  great  white  Throne ; 

He  Himself,  and  '  not  another,' 

He  for  whom  our  heart-love  yearned 

Through  long  years  of  twilight  waiting. 
To  His  ransomed  ones  returned  ! 

For  this  word,  O  Lord,  we  bless  Thee, 
Bless  our  Master's  changeless  name ; 

Yesterday,  to-day,  for  ever, 
Jesus  Christ  is  still  the  Same. 


She  is  at  rest, 
In  God's  own  presence  blest, 
Whom,  while  with  us,  this  day  we  loved  to  greet ; 
Her  birthdays  o'er, 
She  counts  the  years  no  more  ; 
Time's  footfall  is  not  heard  along  the  golden  street. 

When  we  would  raise 
A  hymn  of  birthday  praise, 
The  music  of  our  hearts  is  faint  and  low ; 
Fear,  doubt,  and  sin 
Make  dissonance  within ; 
And  pure  soul-melody  no  child  of  earth  may  know. 

That  strange  '  new  song,' 
Amid  a  white-robed  throng, 


MAR  TS  BIR THDA  Y.  89 

Is  gushing  from  her  harp  in  Hving  tone ; 
Her  seraph  voice, 
Tuned  only  to  rejoice, 
Floats  upward  to  the  emerald-arched  throne.^ 

No  passing  cloud 
Her  loveliness  may  shroud, 
The  beauty  of  her  youth  may  never  fade ; 
No  line  of  care 
Her  sealed  brow  may  wear, 
The  joy-gleam  of  her  eye  no  dimness  e'er  may  shade. 

No  stain  is  there 
Upon  the  robes  they  wear, 
Within  the  gates  of  pearl  which  she  hath  passed ; 
Like  woven  light. 
All  beautiful  and  bright, 
Eternity  upon  those  robes  no  shade  may  cast. 

No  sin-born  thought 
May  in  that  home  be  wrought. 
To  trouble  the  clear  fountain  of  her  heart ; 
No  tear,  no  sigh, 
No  pain,  no  death,  be  nigh 
Where  she  hath  entered  in,  no  more  to  '  know  in  part 

Her  faith  is  sight, 
Her  hope  is  full  delight. 
The  shadowy  veil  of  time  is  rent  in  twain  : 
Her  untold  bliss — 
What  thought  can  follow  this  ! 
To  her  to  live  was  Christ,  to  die  indeed  is  gain. 

'  Rev.  iv.  3. 


90  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Her  eyes  have  seen 
The  King,  no  veil  between, 
In  blood-dipped  vesture  gloriously  arrayed : 
No  earth-breathed  haze 
Can  dim  that  rapturous  gaze ; 
She  sees  Him  face  to  face  on  whom  her  guilt  was  laid. 

A  little  while, 
And  they  whose  loving  smile 
Had  melted  'neath  the  touch  of  lonely  woe, 
Shall  reach  her  home, 
Beyond  the  star-built  dome ; 
Her  anthem  they  shall  swell,  her  joy  they  too  shall  know. 


2)ailp  Strengtb. 

'  As  thy  day  thy  strength  shall  be  ! ' 
This  should  be  enough  for  thee  \ 
He  who  knows  thy  frame  will  spare 
Burdens  more  than  thou  canst  bear. 

When  thy  days  are  veiled  in  night, 
Christ  shall  give  thee  heavenly  light ; 
Seem  they  wearisome  and  long, 
Yet  in  Him  thou  shalt  be  strong. 

Cold  and  wintry  though  they  prove, 
Thine  the  sunshine  of  His  love, 
Or,  with  fervid  heat  oppressed, 
In  His  shadow  thou  shalt  rest. 


THE  RIGHT  WAY.  91 

When  thy  days  on  earth  are  past, 
Christ  shall  call  thee  home  at  last, 
His  redeeming  love  to  praise, 
Who  hath  strengthened  all  thy  days. 


Ube  IRtgbt  Ma^. 

Lord,  is  it  still  the  right  way,  though  I  cannot  see  Thy 
face, 

Though  I  do  not  feel  Thy  presence  and  Thine  all-sustain- 
ing grace  ? 

Can  even  this  be  leading  through  the  bleak  and  sunless 
wild 

To  the  City  of  Thy  holy  rest,  the  mansions  undefiled  ? 

Lord,  is  it  still  the  right  way  ?     A  while  ago  I  passed 
Where  every  step  seemed  thornier  and  harder  than  the  last ; 
Whete  bitterest  disappointment  and  inly  aching  sorrow 
Carved  day  by  day  a  weary  cross,  renewed  with  every 
morrow. 

The  heaviest  end  of  that  strange  cross  I  knew  was  laid  on 

Thee; 
So  I  could  still  press  on,  secure  of  Thy  deep  sympathy. 
Our  upward  path  may  well  be  steep,  else  how  were  patience 

tried  ? 
I  knew  it  was  the  right  way,  for  it  led  me  to  Thy  side. 

c 

But  now  I  wait  alone  amid  dim  shadows  dank  and  chill ; 
All  moves  and  changes  round  me,  but  I  seem  standing 

slill  ; 


92  THE  MimSTR  V  OF  SONG. 

Or  every  feeble  footstep  I  urge  towards  the  light 
Seems  but  to  lead  me  farther  into  the  silent  night. 

I  cannot  hear  Thy  voice,  Lord !   dost  Thou  still  hear  my 

cry? 
I  cling  to  Thine  assurance  that  Thou  art  ever  nigh ; 
I  know  that  Thou  art  faithful ;  I  trust,  but  cannot  see 
That  it  is  still  the  right  way  by  which  Thou  leadest  me. 

I  think  I  could  go  forward  with  brave  and  joyful  heart. 
Though  every  step  should  pierce  me  with  unknown  fiery 

smart, 
If  only  I  might  see  Thee,  if  I  might  gaze  above 
On  all  the  cloudless  glory  of  the  sunshine  of  Thy  love. 

Is  it  really  leading  onwards  ?     When  the  shadows   flee 

away, 
Shall  I  find  this  path  has  brought  me  more  near  to  perfect 

day? 
Or  am  I  left  to  wander  thus  that  I  may  stretch  my  hand 
To  some  still  wearier  traveller  in  this  same  -shadow-land. 

Is  this  Thy  chosen  training  for  some  future  task  unknown  ? 
Is  it  that  I  may  learn  to  rest  upon  Thy  word  alone  ? 
VVhate'er  it  be,  oh  !  leave  me  not,  fulfil  Thou  every  hour 
The  purpose  of  Thy  goodness,  and  the  work  of  faith  with 
power. 

I  lay  my  prayer  before  Thee,  and,  trusting  in  Thy  word. 
Though  all  is  silence  in  my  heart,  I  know  that  Thou  hast 

heard. 
To  that  blest  City  lead  me,  Lord  (still  choosing  all  my  way). 
Where  faith  melts  into  vision  as  the  starlight  into  day. 


THY  WILL  BE  DONE.  93 

Ubs  Mill  be  ^one, 

•  Understanding  what  the  will  of  the  Lord  is.' — Eph.  v.  17. 

With  quivering  heart  and  trembling  will 

The  word  hath  passed  thy  lips, 
Within  the  shadow,  cold  and  still, 

Of  some  fair  joy's  eclipse. 
'  Thy  will  be  done  ! '    Thy  God  hath  heard, 
And  He  will  crown  that  faith-framed  word. 

Thy  prayer  shall  be  fulfilled  :  but  how  ? 

His  thoughts  are  not  as  thine ; 
While  thou  wouldst  only  weep  and  bow, 

He  saith,  '  Arise  and  shine  ! ' 
Thy  thoughts  were  all  of  grief  and  night, 
But  His  of  boundless  joy  and  light. 

Thy  Father  reigns  supreme  above : 

The  glory  of  His  name 
Is  Grace  and  Wisdom,  Truth  and  Love, 

His  will  must  be  the  same. 
And  thou  hast  asked  all  joys  in  one, 
In  whispering  forth,  '  Thy  will  be  done.' 

His  will — each  soul  to  sanctify 

Redeeming  might  hath  won  3  ^ 
His  will — that  thou  shouldst  never  die, 

Believing  on  His  Son  ;  2 
His  will — that  thou,  through  earthly  strife, 
Shouldst  rise  to  everlasting  life.^ 
I  Thess.  iv.  3.  2  John  vi.  40.  *  John  vi.  39. 


94  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

That  one  unchanging  song  of  praise 
Should  from  our  hearts  arise ;  ^ 

That  we  should  know  His  wondrous  ways, 
Though  hidden  from  the  wise  ;  ^ 

That  we,  so  sinful  and  so  base, 

Should  know  the  glory  of  His  grace.^ 

His  will — to  grant  the  yearning  prayer 

For  dear  ones  far  away,* 
That  they  His  grace  and  love  may  share, 

And  tread  His  pleasant  way  ; 
That  in  the  Father  and  the  Son 
All  perfect  we  may  be  in  one.^ 

His  will — the  little  flock  to  bring 

Into  His  royal  fold, 
To  reign  for  ever  with  their  King,^ 

His  beauty  to  behold.'' 
Sin's  fell  dominion  crushed  for  aye, 
Sorrow  and  sighing  fled  away. 


This  thou  hast  asked  !     And  shall  the  prayer 

Float  upward  on  a  sigh  ? 
No  song  were  sweet  enough  to  bear 

Such  glad  desires  on  high  ! 
But  God  thy  Father  shall  fulfil. 
In  thee  and  for  thee,  all  His  will. 

1  I  Thess.  V.  i8.  *  Matt.  xi.  25,  26. 

8  Epli.  i.  5,  6,  II,  12.  *  I  John  v.  14-16, 

*  John  xvii.  23,  24.  «  Luke  xii.  32.  ^  Isa.  xxxiii.  17. 


' NOW  I  see:  95 


*Trbe  tTbtngs  wbicb  are  JBebiuD.' 

Leave  behind  earth's  empty  pleasure, 
Fleeting  hope  and  changeful  love ; 

Leave  its  soon-corroding  treasure  : 
There  are  better  things  above. 

Leave,  oh,  leave  thy  fond  aspirings, 
Bid  thy  restless  heart  be  still ; 

Cease,  oh,  cease  thy  vain  desirings, 
Only  seek  thy  Father's  will. 

Leave  behind  thy  faithless  sorrow, 
And  thine  every  anxious  care  ; 

He  who  only  knows  the  morrow 
Can  for  thee  its  burden  bear. 

Leave  behind  the  doubting  spirit, 
And  thy  crushing  load  of  sin  ; 

By  thy  mighty  Saviour's  merit, 
Life  eternal  thou  shalt  win. 

Leave  the  darkness  gathering  o'er  thee, 
Leave  the  shadow-land  behind; 

Realms  of  glory  lie  before  thee ; 
Enter  in,  and  welcome  find. 


"IRow  %  See/ 

John  \\.  25. 

*  Now  I  see  ! '     But  not  the  parting 
Of  the  melting  earth  and  sky. 


96  THE  MINISTR  V  OF  SONG. 


Not  a  vision  dread  and  startling, 
Forcing  one  despairing  cry. 

But  I  see  the  solemn  saying, 

All  have  sinned,  and  all  must  die ; 

Holy  precepts  disobeying, 
Guilty  all  the  world  must  lie. 

Bending,  silenced,  to  the  dust. 

Now  I  see  that  God  is  just. 

*  Now  I  see  ! '     But  not  the  glory, 

Not  the  face  of  Him  I  love, 
Not  the  full  and  burning  story 

Of  the  mysteries  above. 
But  I  see  what  God  hath  spoken, 

How  His  well-beloved  Son 
Kept  the  laws  which  man  hath  broken, 

Died  for  sins  which  man  hath  done ; 
Dying,  rising,  throned  above  ! 
'  Now  I  see '  that  God  is  Love. 


Bverlasting  Xove. 

•  Yea,  I  have  loved  thee  vvrith  an  everlasting  love,  there/ore  with  loving- 
kindness  have  I  drawn  thee. '  '  No  man  can  come  to  Me  except  the 
Father  which  hath  sent  Me  draw  him. ' 

*  God's  everlasting  love  !     What  wouldst  thou  more  ? ' 
O  true  and  tender  friend,  well  hast  thou  spoken. 
My  heart  was  restless,  weary,  sad,  and  sore, 
And  longed  and  listened  for  some  heaven-sent  token  : 
And,  like  a  child  that  knows  not  why  it  cried, 
'Mid  God's  full  promises  it  moaned,  '  Unsatisfied  ! ' 


E  VERLASTING  L 0  VE.  97 

Yet  there  it  stands.     O  love  surpassing  thought, 
So  bright,  so  grand,  so  clear,  so  true,  so  glorious ; 
Love  infinite,  love  tender,  love  unsought, 
Love  changeless,  love  rejoicing,  love  victorious  1 
And  this  great  love  for  us  in  boundless  store : 
God's  everlasting  love  !     What  would  we  more  ? 

Yes,  one  thing  more  !     To  know  it  ours  indeed, 
To  add  the  conscious  joy  of  full  possession. 
O  tender  grace  that  stoops  to  every  need  ! 
This  everlasting  love  hath  found  expression 
In  loving-kindness,  which  hath  gently  drawn 
The  heart  that  else  astray  too  willingly  had  gone. 

From  no  less  fountain  such  a  stream  could  flow. 
No  other  root  could  yield  so  fair  a  flower : 
Had  He  not  loved,  He  had  not  drawn  us  so ; 
Had  He  not  drawn,  we  had  nor  will  nor  power 
To  rise,  to  come ; — the  Saviour  had  passed  by 
Where  we  in  blindness  sat  without  one  care  or  cry. 

We  thirst  for  God,  our  treasure  is  above ; 
Earth  has  no  gift  our  one  desire  to  meet. 
And  that  desire  is  pledge  of  His  own  love. 
Sweet  question ;  with  no  answer  !  oh  hozv  sweet ! 
My  heart  in  chiming  gladness  o'er  and  o'er 
Sings  on — '  God's  everlasting  love  !     What  wouldst 
thou  more  ? ' 


98  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


^/IDaster,  sa^  on  I' 

Master,  speak  !  Thy  servant  heareth, 
Waiting  for  Thy  gracious  word, 

Longing  for  Thy  voice  that  cheereth : 
Master  !  let  it  now  be  heard. 

I  am  listening,  Lord,  for  Thee ; 

What  hast  Thou  to  say  to  me  ? 

Master,  speak  in  love  and  power : 
Crown  the  mercies  of  the  day, 

In  this  quiet  evening  hour 
Of  the  moonrise  o'er  the  bay. 

With  the  music  of  Thy  voice ; 

Speak  !  and  bid  Thy  child  rejoice. 

Often  through  my  heart  is  pealing 
Many  another  voice  than  Thine, 

Many  an  unwilled  echo  stealing 
From  the  walls  of  this  Thy  shrine : 

Let  Thy  longed-for  accents  fall ; 

Master,  speak  !  and  silence  all. 

Master,  speak !  I  do  not  doubt  Thee, 
Though  so  tearfully  I  plead ; 

Saviour,  Shepherd !  oh,  without  Thee 
Life  would  be  a  blank  indeed  1 

But  I  long  for  fuller  light, 

Deeper  love,  and  dearer  sight 


' MASTER,  SAY  ON r  99 

Resting  on  the  '  faithful  saying,' 

Trusting  what  Thy  gospel  saith, 
On  Thy  written  promise  staying 

All  my  hope  in  life  and  death, 
Yet  I  long  for  something  more 
From  Thy  love's  exhaustless  store. 

Speak  to  me  by  name,  O  Master, 

Let  me  know  it  is  to  me ; 
Speak,  that  I  may  follow  faster, 

With  a  step  more  firm  and  free, 
Where  the  Shepherd  leads  the  flock, 
In  the  shadow  of  the  Rock. 

Master,  speak  !  I  kneel  before  Thee, 

Listening,  longing,  waiting  still ; 
Oh,  how  long  shall  I  implore  Thee 

This  petition  to  fulfil ! 
Hast  Thou  not  one  word  for  me  ? 
Must  my  prayer  imanswered  be  ? 

Master,  speak  !     Though  least  and  lowest, 

Let  me  not  unheard  depart ; 
Master,  speak  !  for  oh,  Thou  knowest 

All  the  yearning  of  my  heart, 
Knowest  all  its  truest  need  ; 
Speak !  and  make  me  blest  indeed. 

Master,  speak  !  and  make  me  ready, 

When  Thy  voice  is  truly  heard, 
With  obedience  glad  and  steady 

Still  to  follow  every  word. 
I  am  listening,  Lord,  for  Thee ; 
Master,  speak,  oh,  speak  to  me ! 


lOO  THE  MINISTR  Y  OF  SONG. 


IRemote  IResults. 

Where  are  the  countless  crystals, 

So  perfect  and  so  bright, 

That  robed  in  softest  ermine 

The  winter  day  and  night  ? 

Not  lost !  for,  life  to  many  a  root, 

They  rise  again  in  flower  and  fruit. 

Where  are  the  mighty  forests. 

And  giant  ferns  of  old. 
That  in  primeval  silence 

Strange  leaf  and  frond  unrolled  ? 
Not  lost !  for  now  they  shine  and  blaze. 
The  light  and  warmth  of  Christmas  days. 

Where  are  our  early  lessons, 

The  teachings  of  our  youth, 

The  countless  words  forgotten 

Of  knowledge  and  of  truth  ? 

Not  lost !  for  they  are  living  still, 

As  power  to  think,  and  do,  and  will. 

Where  is  the  seed  we  scatter, 

With  weak  and  trembling  hand. 
Beside  the  gloomy  waters. 
Or  on  the  arid  land  ? 
Not  lost !  for  after  many  days 
Our  prayer  and  toil  shall  turn  to  praise. 

Where  are  the  days  of  sorrow, 
And  lonely  hours  of  pain, 


ON  THE  LAST  LEAF.  roi 

When  work  is  interrupted, 

Or  planned  and  willed  in  vain  ? 
Not  lost !  it  is  the  thorniest  shoot 
That  bears  the  Master's  pleasant  fruit. 

Where,  where  are  all  God's  lessons, 

His  teachings  dark  or  bright  ? 
Not  lost !  but  only  hidden, 
Till,  in  eternal  light, 
We  see,  while  at  His  feet  we  fall, 
The  reasons  and  results  of  all. 

®n  tbe  Xast  Xeat^ 

Finished  at  last ! 
Yet  for  five  years  past 
My  hook  on  the  dusty  shelf  hath  lain, 
And  I  hardly  thought  that  ever  again 
My  thoughts  would  follow  the  pleasant  chime 
Of  musical  measure  and  ringing  rhyme. 

I  remember  well  when  I  laid  it  by, 

Closed  with  a  sort  of  requiem  sigh. 

Spring  in  her  beauty  had  swept  along. 

And  left  my  spirit  all  full  of  song  : 

The  wakening  depths  of  my  heart  were  stirred. 

Voices  within  and  without  I  heard, 

Whispering  me 

That  I  might  be 
A  messenger  of  peace  and  pleasure  j 

That  in  my  careless  minstrelsy 
Lay  something  of  poetic  treasure, 

^  Written  at  the  close  of  a  manuscript  volume. 


102  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


Which,  wrought  with  care,  I  yet  some  day 

At  all  my  loved  ones'  feet  might  lay. 

Perhaps  't  was  a  vain  and  foolish  dream, 

A  fancy-lit,  illusive  gleam  ! 

And  yet  I  cannot  quite  believe 

That  such  bright  impulse  could  deceive. 

I  felt  I  had  so  much  to  say, 

Such  pleasant  thoughts  from  day  to  day, 

Sang,  lark-like,  with  each  morning  ray, 

Or  murmured  low  in  twilight  grey, 

Like  distant  curfew  pealing. 
And  then,  for  each,  fair  Fancy  brought 
A  robe  of  language  ready  wrought. 
The  smile  of  every  winged  thought 

Half  veiling,  half  revealing. 
And  I  only  waited,  with  longing  gaze, 
For  the  golden  leisure  of  summer  days. 
Which  I  thought  to  crown  with  happiest  lays. 

God  thought  not  so  !     Ah  no,  He  knew 
There  was  other  work  for  me  to  do, 
There  were  other  lessons  for  me  to  learn : 
Another  voice  fell,  low  and  stern, 

Upon  the  too  reluctant  ear. 
Before  the  solemn  voice  of  Pain 
My  visions  fled,  nor  came  again, 
With  all  their  glad  and  lovely  train. 

My  summer-tide  to  cheer. 


Well  is  it  when,  at  high  command 
Of  wasest  Love,  she  takes  her  stand 
At  the  heart's  busy  portal, 


ON  THE  LAST  LEAF.  103 

And  warns  away  each  noisy  guest 
Whose  presence  chases  calm  and  rest, 
Our  powers,  the  brightest  and  the  best, 

Proclaiming  weak  and  mortal. 
That  so  the  way  may  be  more  clear 

For  Him,  the  Prince  of  Peace,  to  come, 
That  which  is  left  all  void  and  drear 

To  make  His  palace  and  His  home. 

And  so  the  song  of  my  heart  was  hushed, 
And  the  chiming  thoughts  were  stilled  : 

Summer  flew  by,  but  the  hope  was  crushed, 

Swiftly  onward  my  life-tide  rushed, 
But  my  book  remained  unfilled. 

For  an  aching  head  and  a  weary  frame. 

Poetry  is  but  an  empty  name. 

Yet  I  am  sure  it  was  better  so, 

I  trusted  then,  and  now  I  know. 

For  ever,  I  think,  the  gift  is  fled 

Which  once  I  fancied  mine  : 
So  be  it  !     A  '  name '  is  not  for  me ; 
Loving  and  loved  I  would  rather  be. 
With  power  to  cheer  and  sympathize. 
Bearing  new  light  for  tear-dimmed  eyes ; 

But  I  do  not  care  to  shine. 

So  if  aught  I  write  may  tend  to  this, 
My  fairest  hope  of  earthly  bhss, 

Content  with  humblest  rhyme  I'll  be  ; 
And,  striving  less  and  trusting  more, 
All  simple,  earnest  thoughts  outpour. 

Such  as  my  God  may  give  to  me. 


i 


ro4  THE  MINISTR  Y  OF  SONG. 


Ibow  Sboiil^  ^be^  Iknow  /Ifte? 

There  are  those  v/ho  deem  they  know  me  well, 
And  smile  as  I  tell  them  '  nay  ! ' 

Who  think  they  may  clearly  and  carelessly  tell 

Each  living  drop  in  my  heart's  deep  well, 

And  lightly  enter  its  inmost  cell ; 

But  little  (how  little  !)  know  they ! 

How  should  they  know  me  ?  My  soul  is  a  ma jre 

Where  I  wander  alone,  alone  ; 
Never  a  footfall  there  was  heard, 
Never  a  mortal  hand  hath  stirred 
The  silence-curtain  that  hangs  between 
Outer  and  inner,  nor  eye  hath  seen 

What  is  only  and  ever  my  own. 

They  have  entered  indeed  the  vestibule. 

For  its  gate  is  opened  wide, 
High  as  the  roof,  and  I  welcome  all 
Who  will  visit  my  warm  reception-hall, 
And  utter  a  long  and  loving  call 

To  some  who  are  yet  outside. 

I  would  lead  each  guest  to  a  place  of  rest ; 

All  should  be  calm  and  bright ; 
Then  a  lulling  flow  of  melody, 
And  a  crystal  draught  of  sympathy, 
And  odorous  blossoms  of  kindly  thought, 
With  golden  fruit  of  deed,  be  brought 

From  the  chambers  out  of  sight. 


HOW  SHOULD  THEY  KNOW  ME?  105 

Some  I  would  take  with  a  cordial  hand, 

And  lead  them  round  the  walls ; 
Showing  them  many  a  storied  screen, 
Many  a  portrait,  many  a  scene, 
Deep-cut  carving,  and  outlined  scroll ; 
Passing  quickly  where  shadows  roll, 

Slowly  where  sunshine  falls. 

They  do  not  know  and  they  cannot  see 
That  strong-hinged,  low-arched  door. 

Though  I  am  passing  in  and  out, 

From  gloom  within  to  hght  without. 

Or  from  gloom  without  to  light  within  ; 

None  can  ever  an  entrance  win, 
None  !  for  evermore. 

It  is  a  weird  and  wondrous  realm, 

Where  I  often  hold  my  breath 
At  the  unseen  things  which  there  I  see, 
At  the  mighty  shapes  which  beckon  to  me, 
At  the  visions  of  woe  and  ecstasy. 

At  the  greetings  of  life  and  death. 

They  rise,  they  pass,  they  melt  away, 

In  an  ever-changing  train  ; 
I  cannot  hold  them  or  tell  their  stay. 
Or  measure  the  time  of  their  fleeting  sway ; 
As  grim  as  night,  and  as  fair  as  day, 

They  vanish  and  come  again, 

I  wander  on  through  the  strange  domain. 
Marvelling  ever  and  aye ; 


lo6  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Marvelling  how  around  my  feet 
All  the  opposites  seem  to  meet, 
The  dark,  the  light,  the  chill,  the  glow. 
The  storm,  the  calm,  the  fire,  the  snow, — 
How  can  it  be  ?     I  do  not  know. 
Then  how,  oh  how,  can  they  ? 

What  am  I,  and  how  ?     If  reply  there  be, 

In  unsearchable  chaos  'tis  cast. 
Though  the  soaring  spirit  of  restless  man 
Might  the  boundary  line  of  the  universe  scan, 
And  measure  and  map  its  measureless  plan, 
The  gift  of  self-knowledge  were  last ! 

Little  one,  what  are  you  doing, 

Sitting  on  the  window-seat  ? 
Laughing  to  yourself,  and  writing, 
Some  right  merry  thought  inditing, 
Balancing  with  swinging  feet. 

'  'T  is  some  poetry  I  'm  making. 
Though  I  never  tried  before  : 

Four  whole  lines  !     I  '11  read  them  to  you. 

Do  you  think  them  funny,  do  you  ? 
Shall  I  try  to  make  some  more  ? 

'  I  sliould  like  to  be  a  poet. 

Writing  verses  every  day  ; 
Then  to  you  I'd  always  bring  them, 
You  should  make  a  tune  and  sing  them ; 

'T  would  be  pleasanter  than  play.' 


MAKING  POETRY.  107 


Think  you,  darling,  nought  is  needed 

But  the  paper  and  the  ink, 
And  a  pen  to  trace  so  hghtly, 
While  the  eye  is  beaming  brightly, 

All  the  pretty  things  we  think  ? 

There's  a  secret, — can  you  trust  me  ? 

Do  not  ask  me  what  it  is  ! 
Perhaps  some  day  you  too  will  know  it, 
If  you  live  to  be  a  poet. 

All  its  agony  and  bliss. 

Poetry  is  not  a  trifle, 

Lightly  thought  and  lightly  made : 
Not  a  fair  and  scentless  flower, 
Gaily  cultured  for  an  hour, 

Then  as  gaily  left  to  fade. 

'Tis  not  stringing  rhymes  together 

In  a  pleasant  true  accord ; 
Not  the  music  of  the  metre, 
Not  the  happy  fancies,  sweeter 

Than  a  flower-bell,  honey-stored. 

'Tis  the  essence  of  existence, 

Rarely  rising  to  the  light ; 
And  the  songs  that  echo  longest. 
Deepest,  fullest,  truest,  strongest, 

With  your  life-blood  you  will  write. 

With  your  life-blood.     None  will  know  it, 
You  will  never  tell  them  how. 


loS  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Smile  !  and  they  will  never  guess  it : 
Laugh  !  and  you  will  not  confess  it 
By  your  paler  cheek  and  brow. 

There  must  be  the  tightest  tension 

Ere  the  tone  be  full  and  true ; 
Shallow  lakelets  of  emotion 
Are  not  like  the  spirit-ocean, 
Which  reflects  the  purest  blue. 

Every  lesson  you  shall  utter, 

If  the  charge  indeed  be  yours, 

First  is  gained  by  earnest  learning, 

Carved  in  letters  deep  and  burning 

On  a  heart  that  long  endures. 

Day  by  day  that  wondrous  tablet 
Your  life-poem  shall  receive. 

By  the  hand  of  Joy  or  Sorrow ; 

But  the  pen  can  never  borrow 
Half  the  records  that  they  leave. 

You  will  only  give  a  transcript 
Of  a  life-line  here  and  there, 
Only  just  a  spray-wreath  springing 
From  the  hidden  depths,  and  flinging 
Broken  rainbows  on  the  air. 

Still,  if  you  but  copy  truly, 
'T  will  be  poetry  indeed, 
Echoing  many  a  heart's  vibration, 
Rather  love  than  admiration 
Earning  as  your  priceless  meed. 


THE  CASCADE.  109 


Will  you  seek  it ?    Will  you  brave  it? 

'T  is  a  strange  and  solemn  thing, 
Learning  long,  before  your  teaching, 
Listening  long,  before  your  preaching, 

Suffering  before  you  sing. 


Ube  Casca&e. 

Who  saith  that  Poetry  is  not  in  thee, 

Thou  wild  cascade,  bright,  beautiful,  and  free  ? 

Who  saith  that  thine  own  sunny  gleaming  waters 

Are  not  among  '  sweet  Poesie's  '  fair  daughters  ? 

No  Poetry  in  thee?  then  tell,  oh  tell, 

Where  is  the  home  where  she  delights  to  dwell  ? 

But  what  is  Poetry  ?     Some  aerial  sprite. 

Clothed  in  a  dazzling  robe  of  wavy  light. 

Whose  magic  touch  unlocks  the  gates  of  joy 

In  dreamland  to  some  vision-haunted  boy  ? 

Or  is  she  but  a  breath  from  Eden-bowers, 

Charged  with  the  fragrance  of  their  shining  flowers. 

Which,  passing  o'er  the  harp-strings  of  the  soul, 

Awakes  new  melody,  whose  echoes  roll 

In  waves  of  spirit-music  through  the  heart, 

Till  tears  and  smiles  in  mingling  sweetness  start  ? 

It  may  be  so,  but  still  she  seems  to  me 

Most  like  a  God-sent  sunlight,  rich  and  free. 

Bathing  the  tiniest  leaf  in  molten  gold. 

Bidding  each  flower  some  secret  charm  unfold. 

Weaving  a  veil  of  loveliness  for  earth, 

Calling  all  fairy  forms  to  wondrous  birth. 


no  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Our  sweet  soul-Artist !     Many  a  fair  surprise 
Her  colour-treasures  bring  to  waiting  eyes ; 
Her  pictures,  sudden  seen,  oft  seem  to  dwell 
Like  pearls  within  the  rugged  ocean  shell, 
They  tell  of  something  purer  and  more  fair 
Than  earth  can  boast,  and  gleam  forth  everywhere, 
Star-glimpses  through  the  trees,  or  flashes  bright 
Of  meteor  glory  in  a  northern  night. 

Our  sweet  soul-Harpist !  linking  winds  with  sighs, 

And  blending  both  with  spirit-melodies, 

And  adding  chords  that  come  we  know  not  whence, 

Dream-echoes  mingling  with  the  wakeful  sense. 

O  strange,  O  beautiful !  though  all  unknown, 

The  music-fount  of  every  lovely  tone, 

The  colour-fount  of  every  lovely  thought, 

By  this  bright  ministrant  so  freely  brought. 

Save  that  we  own  their  true  and  soothing  might 

One  of  His  perfect  gifts,  whose  names  are  Love  and  Light, 

Oh  !  she  is  often  where  we  least  surmise, 

And  scorns  the  dimness  of  our  heavy  eyes  ; 

We  catch  the  ruby  sparkles  of  her  wing, 

And  she  is  gone  like  dewdrops  of  the  spring; 

Again,  to  glad  us  with  her  smile  she  stays, 

And  shows  her  brightness  to  our  loving  gaze. 

No  cave  so  dark  but  she  may  gain  its  porch, 

And  gild  the  shadows  with  her  quenchless  torch  ; 

No  dell  so  silent  but  her  pealing  voice  ^ 

Can  bid  a  leafy  orchestra  rejoice  ;  " 

No  waste  so  lonely  but  she  there  may  hold 

Her  gorgeous  court  in  splendour  all  untold- 

I 


CONSTANCE  DE  V .  in 

And  where  those  waters  murmur  as  they  leap, 
A  song  of  gentleness,  and  calm,  and  sleep, 
Within  the  sounding  music  of  their  tone 
I  hear  a  voice,  and  know  it  is  her  own. 

And  where  the  fair,  fond  sunbeams  blithely  play 
Amid  the  hazy  wreaths  of  dancing  spray, 
A  form  of  fairy  grace  shines  forth  to  me; 
I  hail  the  vision,  for  I  know  't  is  she. 
She  loves  that  changeful,  yet  unchanging  foam. 
Within  its  arching  bowers  she  finds  a  home, 
And  reads  beneath  its  roof  of  fleeting  snow 
The  secrets  of  the  shadowy  depth  below. 
Then  who  shall  say  that  she  is  not  in  thee, 
Thou  wild  cascade,  bright,  beautiful,  and  free ! 

Constance  H)e  It) — . 


AN  EPISODE  IN   THE  LIFE  OF  CHARLES   MAURICE,    PRINCE   DB 
TALLEYRAND. 

Ye  maidens  of  Old  England  1 

The  joyous  and  the  free, 
The  loving  and  the  loved  of  all, 

Wherever  ye  may  be ; 
Who  wander  through  the  ferny  dell, 

And  o'er  the  breezy  hill, 
And  glide  along  the  woodland  path 

All  at  your  own  sweet  will ; 
Who  know  the  many  joys  of  home, 

The  song,  the  smile,  the  mirth, 
The  happy  things  which  God  has  given 

To  brighten  this  our  earth  : 


112  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

Comes  there  a  sigh,  a  longing  thought, 

In  lonely  musing  hours  ? 
Deem  ye  there  is  a  fairer  realm, 

A  purer  faith  than  ours  ? 
O  cast  away  the  yearning  dream, 

And  listen,  while  I  tell 
Of  one  who  knew  no  other  home 

Than  her  own  convent  cell. 


I. 

The  rain  comes  down  relentlessly, 

The  sky  is  robed  in  grey. 
Oh,  Paris  is  a  dreary  place 

On  such  a  dreary  day  ! 
But  dreariest  of  the  darkening  streets, 

Where  the  loud  rain  doth  fall, 
Is  that  where  looms  the  convent  tower, 

Where  frowns  the  convent  wall. 


II. 

A  boyish  step  is  passing 

Beneath  the  dripping  eaves. 
With  monkish  lore  beladen. 

With  musty  Latin  leaves. 
Ah,  Charles  Maurice,  the  young  abb^, 

Thou  art  of  princely  birth  ! 
For  thee  shall  dawn  a  brighter  day, 
A  strange  high  part  be  thine  to  play, 
With  wondrous  tact  to  guide  and  sway 

The  great  ones  of  the  earth  ! 


4 


CONSTANCE  DE  V .  113 


III. 

But  the  still-increasing  torrents 

Will  spoil  the  ancient  tomes, 
And  woe  betide  Charles  Maurice 

From  the  wrath  of  cowled  gnomes  I 
So  he  seeks  a  low-bent  archway 

Within  the  grim  old  wall, 
Where  never  the  laughing  footstep 

Of  a  sunbeam  dares  to  fall. 

IV. 

Anon  he  wraps  the  volumes 

In  the  folds  of  his  hooded  gown  ; 
Then  starts  to  hear,  though  he  knows  no  fear, 
A  sound  which  tells  him  life  is  near — 

That  he  is  not  alone. 
He  turns — the  passage  is  dark  as  night, 

He  listens — but  all  is  still, 
Save  the  raindrops  in  monotonous  march, 
And  the  ceaseless  drip  from  the  mouldering  arch, 

On  the  stone  so  damp  and  chill. 


*  Qui  vive  f '  he  cries  right  gaily. 

Through  the  cavernous  entry's  gloom ; 

But  a  low,  faint  cry  is  the  sole  reply, 

As  the  voice  of  one  who  is  come  to  lie 
On  the  brink  of  a  yawning  tomb. 

Oh,  where  is  the  true-hearted  lad. 
Who  at  the  call  of  sorrow 

H 


114  'rHE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

But  in  his  thoughtlessness  is  glad 
To  help  the  weak  and  cheer  the  sad, 
And  promise  a  brighter  morrow  ? 

VI. 

The  cry  was  one  of  weakness — 

Of  weariness  unblest ; 
And  a  pulse  of  gentle  sympathy 

Makes  music  in  his  breast. 
Tlirough  the  dark  way  he  gropeth 

To  the  iron-studded  door, 
Behind  whose  oaken  grimness 
Some  dwell  in  cloistral  dimness 

Who  may  pass  out  no  more. 

VII. 

There,  in  the  glimmering  darkness, 

He  deems  he  can  descry 
A  small  and  sable-rob^d  form 

On  the  cold  doorstep  lie. 
The  form  is  that  of  maidenhood  ; 

And,  in  that  bo5'ish  heart, 
It  wakes  a  helpful  tenderness, 
Like  that  which,  hidden,  yet  doth  bless 
Through  a  loved  brother's  fond  caress, 

Ere  childhood's  hours  depart. 

VIII. 

*  What  is  it  ? '  said  Charles  Maurice, 
In  a  softly  pitying  tone ; 


( 


CONSTANCE  DE  V .  115 


*  What  dost  thou  fear  ?  why  art  thou  here  ? 

And  why  that  wearj'  moan  ? ' 
Then,  Hfting  her  with  gentle  arm, 

He  bore  her  where  the  light 
Fell  on  a  girlish  face  so  fair, 
It  seemed  a  seraph  light  to  wear, 
But  for  the  sorrow  mantling  there, 

And  the  glance  of  wild  affright. 

IX. 

Why  should  I  paint  her  beauty  ? 

Have  ye  not  often  tried 
To  tell  of  rosy  lip  and  cheek, 
Of  starlit  eyes  that  shine  and  speak, 
Of  cloudlike  locks  that  vainly  seek 

The  snowy  brow  to  hide  ? 
And  feel  ye  not,  when  all  is  said 

That  words  can  ever  say, 
The  fount  of  beauty  still  is  sealed — 
The  loveliness  is  not  revealed 

To  those  who  list  the  lay. 


Oh,  words  can  never  satisfy — 

They  are  too  hard  and  real ; 
The  subtle  charm  they  cannot  show 
By  which  the  Beautiful  we  know, 

The  Beautiful  we  feel. 
Perchance  they  speak  the  form,  the  mind, 

And  draw  the  likeness  well ; 


ri6  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

But  at  the  closed  entrance  gate 
All  reverently  they  bend  and  wait 

Where,  'neath  the  marble-arching  dome, 
In  crystal-windowed  palace-home, 

The  soul  itself  doth  dwell. 

XI. 

And  who  may  tell  how  lovely 

The  gentle  Constance  seemed, 
When  through  such  clouds  of  sorrow 

Her  meteor  beauty  gleamed  ! 
What  wonder  that  all  speechless, 

As  in  a  trance  of  gladness, 
The  young  abbe  stood  wonderingly, 

Before  such  radiant  sadness  ? 

XII. 

For  the  look  of  hopeless  terror 

Was  softened  as  she  raised 
Those  orbs  of  strange,  quick  brightness. 

And  on  Charles  Maurice  gazed. 
She  saw  the  pledge  of  kindness 

Traced  on  that  high  fair  brow ; — 
'  Oh,  no  !  thou  never  wilt  betray. 
But  aid  thou  canst  not ;  say,  oh  say, 
Am  I  not  lost  ?     There  is  no  way 

Of  safe  return,  I  know.' 

XIII. 

Then  the  trembling  hands  she  folded 
Over  the  burning  cheek, 


CONSTANCE  DE   V .  117 

A  wild  and  woe-born  sobbing 

Forbade  the  lips  to  speak ; 
Till  quiet  words  of  sympathy, 

So  softly  breathed  and  low, 
And  the  touch  of  that  young  hand  on  hers, 

Soon  bade  her  story  flow. 

XIV. 

'  I  was  a  very  little  child, 

Not  old  enough  to  know, 
Perhaps  kind  looks  had  on  me  smiled, 
But  I  forget  them  now. 
When  I  was  brought  to  live  so  coldly  here, 
Where  all  goes  on  the  same  through  weary  month  and 
year. 

XV. 

'  I  did  not  know  how  lovely  all 
The  world  without  must  be  ; 
The  sunbeams  on  the  convent  wall 
Were  quite  enough  for  me ; 
But  others  came  who  knew,  and  then  they  told 
Of  all  that  I  had  dreamt,  but  never  might  behold. 

XVI. 

*  They  told  me  of  the  mountains  tall, 

Where  they  might  freely  roam ; 
They  told  me  of  the  waterfall. 
With  music  in  its  foam ; 
They  told  me  of  wide  fields  and  opening  flowers, 
Of  sloping  mossy  banks  and  glowing  autumn  bowers. 


Ii8  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


XVII. 

'  Of  Other  things  they  told  me,  too, 

More  beautiful  to  them, 
Of  gleaming  halls  where  sparklets  flew 
From  many  a  radiant  gem ; 
And  then  they  told  of  mirth,  and  dance,  and  song. 
Would  I  had  never  heard,  that  I  might  never  long ! 

XVIII. 

'  They  said  the  sky  was  just  as  blue 

Above  the  convent  towers. 
As  where  the  arching  forests  threw 
A  shade  o'er  summer  flowers ; 
But  I  grew  weary  of  that  dazzling  sky, 
And  longed  to  wander  forth,  e'en  if  it  were  to  die. 

XIX. 

'  I  did  not  want  to  change  my  lot, 

I  knew  it  might  not  be ; 
I  only  longed  to  have  one  spot 
All  bright  with  memory. 
To  gaze  just  once  upon  the  world  I  tried, 
And  then  I  would  return  to  be  Heaven's  lonely  bride. 

XX. 

'  But,  oh,  I  heard  no  sounds  of  mirth, 

No  beauty  I  could  see  ; 
I  could  not  find  the  lovely  earth. 
It  was  not  made  for  me. 
And  now  my  punishment  indeed  is  sore, 
My  only  home  hath  closed  on  me  its  iron  door. 


CONSTANCE  DE  V .  119 


XXI. 

Yes !  in  her  fevered  restlessness 

She  left  her  unwatched  cell, 
When  all  around  were  summoned 

By  the  deep-voiced  matin-bell. 
And  in  the  damp-stoned  cloisters 

To  rest  awhile  she  thought, 
Where  cold,  fresh  air  might  round  her  play, 
The  burning  fever  pass  away, 
And  coolness  of  the  early  day 

To  her  hot  brow  be  brought. 

XXII. 

Strange  carelessness !  no  massy  bar 

Across  the  gate  was  thrown  ! 
She  deemed  that  world  of  beauty  near ; 
She  gazed  around  in  haste  and  fear, 
Oh,  none  were  there  to  see  and  hear — 

The  timid  bird  has  flown  ! 
But  the  rain  came  down  relentlessly, 

The  sky  was  robed  in  grey  ; 
All  dreary  seemed  the  narrow  street, 
And  nothing  bright  or  fair  might  meet 
Her  of  the  white  and  trembling  feet ; 
No  loveliness  is  there  to  greet 

That  wandering  star  to-day. 

XXIII. 

Then,  bowed  with  shame  and  weakness, 
And  disappointed  hope 


I2C  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

She  only  reached  the  heavy  door 
To  find  it  firmly  closed  once  more ; 
Ah,  who  shall  help,  and  who  restore. 

And  who  that  door  shall  ope  ? 
The  strong  young  arm  of  Charles  Maurice 

Tries  once  and  yet  again, 
But  the  weighty  portal  baffles  him  : 

Ah !  is  it  all  in  vain  ? 

XXIV. 

But  Constance  darts  one  upward  glance 

Of  blent  despair  and  trust ; 
There  is  no  bolt,  for  daylight  gleams 
Between  the  scarcely-meeting  beams  : 
Some  unknown  obstacle  there  seems, 

And  conquer  it  he  must. 
He  strains  his  utmost  strength,  the  sweat 

Is  beading  on  his  brow ; 
It  creaks — it  yields  !     O  Constance,  smile, 

The  door  is  open  now  1 

XXV. 

From  her  cheek  the  flush  hath  faded, 

As  fades  the  evening  glow. 
In  pristine  whiteness  leaving 

The  rosy  Alpine  snow. 
And  like  a  breeze  of  twilight 

The  aspen-leaves  among, 
A  whisper  falls  upon  his  ear 

From  quivering  lip  and  tongue  : 


CONSTANCE  DE  V .  I-: 


XXVI. 

♦  Farewell !     Oh,  thou  hast  saved  me  ! ' 

And  the  hand  so  white  and  cold, 
With  lingering  clasp  of  gratitude, 

Her  wordless  thanks  hath  told. 
One  moment  on  that  small,  fair  hand 

His  youthful  lips  are  pressed ; 
There  is  a  reverence  in  his  eye, 
For  grief  and  beauty  both  are  nigh  ; 
She  passes  like  a  spirit  by, 

To  seek  her  cheerless  rest. 

XXVII. 

They  are  parted,  like  the  dewdrops 

That  linger  in  the  smile 
Of  a  storm-begotten  rainbow, 

But  for  a  little  while  : 
Then  one  in  lonely  dimness 

To  earth  may  soon  descend  ; 
And  one  with  the  bright  sky  above. 

Though  all  unseen,  may  blend. 

XXVIII. 

The  young  abb^  hath  paused  in  vain 

To  hear  her  footstep  pass ; 
'Twas  lighter  than  the  noiseless  fall 

Of  rose-leaf  on  the  grass. 
No  sound  is  heard  but  the  pattering  rain, 

And  he  slowly  turns  away, 
With  the  brown  old  books  beneath  his  gown, 
To  meet  his  abbot's  gathering  frown, 

For  loitering  on  the  way. 


122  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


XXIX. 

Think  you  he  conned  the  loveless  lore 

Without  a  thoughtful  sigh 
For  the  loveliness  in  sorrow, 

Which  passed  so  trance-hke  by  ? 
Among  the  missal  borders 

Was  no  such  angel-face  ; 
And  such,  once  seen,  fade  not  away ; 
Their  image  shines  without  decay. 
When  on  the  canvas  of  the  heart, 
With  untaught  skill,  yet  mystic  art, 
Each  line  of  light  we  trace. 

XXX. 

The  wing  of  Time  seems  broken  now, 

So  tardy  is  his  flight ; 
He  deems  by  day  that  she  is  dead. 

He  dreams  she  lives,  by  night. 
Till  quick  anxiety  hath  found 

A  messenger  to  bear 
The  tidings  that  he  strove  to  frame, 

From  woven  hope  and  fear. 

XXXI. 

What  wonder  that  he  heard  not 

Her  footfall  on  the  stone ! 
She  sank  beneath  the  cloister  wall. 

Unheeded  and  alone ; 
And  ere  Charles  Maurice  stood  again 

Beneath  the  open  sky, 


CONSTANCE  DE   V .  123 


For  ever  on  the  things  of  earth 
She  closed  her  weary  eye. 


XXXII. 

Constance,  the  beautiful,  hath  left 

Her  dismal  convent  cell ; 
She  hath  not  known  one  hope  fulfilled, 
One  granted  joy,  one  longing  stilled. 
For  her  the  melody  of  life 
Was  but  one  chord  of  inward  strife. 

Was  but  one  ruthless  knell. 
Her  heart  bedimmed  with  sameness, 

Her  only  wish  denied. 
Oh,  what  a  mockery  it  were 
Her  lot  should  such  a  title  bear, 

'  Heaven's  own  appointed  bride !' 

XXXIII. 

Why  should  her  early  spring-time 

Be  quenched  in  wintry  gloom  ? 
Was  it  not  merciful  and  wise 
To  call  her  spirit  to  the  skies 

From  such  a  living  tomb  ? 
How  might  that  gentle  maiden 

Have  scattered  joy  around. 
And  made  the  earth  a  brighter  place. 
For  all  her  radiance  and  grace  ! 
But  now,  unsorrowed  and  unknown. 
Her  only  memory  is  a  stone 

Within  the  convent  bound. 


124  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


iTairp  Ibomes. 

I've  found  at  last  the  hiding-place 
Where  the  fairy  people  dwell, 

And  to  win  the  secrets  of  their  race 
I  hold  the  long-sought  spell. 

With  the  woodland  fairies  I  can  talk, 
I  can  list  their  silvery  lays ; 

Oh  !  pleasant  in  a  lonely  walk 
Is  the  company  of  fays. 

No  fabled  fancy  't  is  to  me, 

For  in  every  floweret's  bell 
Is  a  tiny  chamber,  where  I  see 

A  gentle  fairy  dwell. 

And  at  my  bidding  forth  they  come, 

To  soothe  me  or  to  cheer, 
And  to  tell  me  tales  of  fairydom 

With  voices  soft  and  clear. 

Full  many  a  beauteous  lesson,  too, 

Their  rosy  lips  can  teach  ; 
Great  men  would  wonder  if  they  knew 

How  well  the  fairies  preach  ! 

When  thoughts  of  sorrow  sadden  me, 

They  seem  to  sympathize. 
And  gaze  upon  me  lovingly, 

With  tender  earnest  eyes ; 


I 


MORE  MUSIC.  I2S 


But  when  a  tide  of  joyous  glee 
Is  bringing  song  and  smile, 

Then  brightly  they  look  up  to  me, 
And  laugh  with  me  awhile. 

Oh  !  lovely  are  the  floweret  homes 
Of  these  sweet  summer  fays ; 

God's  thoughts  of  beauty  taking  form 
To  gladden  mortal  gaze. 


/l>ote  /IDuslc. 


Oh  for  a  burst  of  song, 
Exultant,  deep,  and  strong, 
One  gush  of  music's  billowy  might, 
To  bear  my  soul  away 
Into  the  realms  of  day, 
From  these  dim  glacier-caves  of  Life's  cold  night ! 

Oh  for  a  sunset  strain 
Wafted  o'er  slumberous  main. 
To  enter,  spirit-like,  my  prisoned  heart, 
And  there,  with  viewless  hand, 
Unloose  each  mortal  band, 
That  in  the  songs  of  heaven  I  too  might  learn  a  part. 

The  sweetest  music  here 
Calls  forth  the  quiet  tear, 
For  grief  and  gladness  flow  in  blended  stream ; 
Oh  for  the  joyous  day, 
(Can  it  be  far  away  ?) 
When  one  great  Alleluia  song  shall  chase  Life's  tuneless 
dream ! 


126  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


ON  BOARD  THE  STEAMER  LA  FRANCE,  JANUARY  26,  1866. 

A  STILL  grey  haze  around  us, 

Behind,  a  foreign  shore, 
A  still  grey  deep  beneath  us, 

And  Dover  cliffs  before. 
Not  one  within  a  hundred  miles 

Whose  name  I  ever  heard, 
None  who  would  care  to  speak  to  me 

A  passing  friendly  word  : 
Yet  not  a  shadow  crosseth  me 

Of  loneliness  or  fear ; 
I  bless  the  Omnipresent  One, 

I  know  that  God  is  here. 

All  whom  I  love  are  scattered  : 

And  many  a  month  and  mile 
Rise,  mountain-like,  before,  behind, 

Between  me  and  their  smile. 
Oh  that  the  love  I  bear  them 

Might  blossom  into  skill 
To  comfort  and  to  brighten, 

And  all  with  gladness  fill ! 
Ah  !  helpless  love  !     Yet  't  is  a  joy 

To  turn  each  wish  to  prayer. 
And,  where  each  loved  one  sojourneth, 

To  know  that  God  is  there. 

The  nearest  and  the  dearest 
Are  where  the  rushing  Rhine 


TRAVELLING  THOUGHTS.  127 


Bends  northward  from  the  Drachenfels, 

From  castle,  rock,  and  vine  ; 
Where  long-lined  chestnut  shadows 

Make  tracery  below, 
And  the  moss-framed  window  challenges 

The  might  of  frost  and  snow. 
Lit  rather  by  the  dawn  of  heaven 

Than  earthly  sunset  glow, 
That  passing  home  of  faith  and  prayer  ! 

Oh,  God  is  there,  I  know  ! 

From  thence  the  wing  of  loving  thought 

Speeds  on  where  Severn  flows, 
And  hovers  o'er  as  fair  a  scene 

As  our  fair  England  knows ; 
The  home  of  summer  roses, 

Of  winter  mirth  and  glee, — 
Long  may  that  home  unbroken. 

That  mirth  unsilenced  be  ! 
The  blessings  of  unbounded  grace 

I  pray  Him  to  bestow, 
And  trust  Him  for  the  coming  years, 

For  He  is  there,  I  know. 

Now  westward  sweeps  the  vision 

Across  the  Irish  Sea, 
And  echoes  low  of  sisters'  love 

Come  back  again  to  me. 
A  beacon  bright  in  stormy  night 

Of  error,  rage,  and  wrong, 
That  home  of  love  and  truth  shall  cast 

Its  radiance  pure  and  strong. 


128  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

They  tell  of  rumours  strange  and  dark ; 

But  oh  !  no  need  to  fear  ! 
God  will  not  leave  His  own,  I  know, 

His  guardian  hand  is  near. 

Another  scene  by  gentle  Ouse 

Must  aye  be  dear  to  me, 
Though  all  are  not  together  now, 

And  one  is  on  the  sea. 
And  where  a  grey  cathedral  tower 

Uprises  broad  and  high, 
A  home  is  made  in  cloistral  shade, 

Beside  the  winding  Wye. 
To  seek  the  richest  boons  for  these, 

Why  should  the  heart  be  slow? 
One  Shepherd,  Chief,  and  Great,  and  Good, 

Is  watching  there,  I  know. 

Then,  in  a  busy  city, 

A  crypt  all  dark  and  lone, 
A  name  engraven  on  our  hearts 

Is  traced  upon  a  stone. 
Not  there  the  sainted  spirit ! 

She  dwells  in  holy  light, 
Within  the  pearl-raised  portals, 

With  those  who  walk  in  white. 
May  all  her  children  follow 

The  path  she  meekly  trod, 
And  reach  the  home  she  rests  in  now, 

And  dwell,  like  her,  with  God. 


I 


NEW  YEAR'S  WISHES.  129 


A  PEARL-STREWN  pathway  of  untold  gladness, 
Flecked  by  no  gloom,  by  no  weary  sadness. 

Such  be  the  year  to  thee  ! 
A  crystal  rivulet,  sunlight  flinging, 
Awakening  blossoms,  and  joyously  singing 

Its  own  calm  melody. 

A  symphony  soft,  and  sweet,  and  low, 
Like  the  gentlest  music  the  angels  know 

In  their  moments  of  deepest  joy ; 
'Mid  earth's  wild  clamour  thy  spirit  telling 
Of  beauty  and  holiness,  upward  swelling, 

And  mingling  with  the  sky. 

A  radiant,  fadeless  Eden  flower, 
Unfolding  in  loveliness  hour  by  hour. 

Like  a  wing-veiled  seraph's  face ; — 
Such  be  the  opening  year  to  thee, 
Shrouded  though  all  its  moments  be. 

Unknown  as  the  bounds  of  space. 

Blessings  unspoken  this  year  be  thine  ! 
Each  day  in  its  rainbow  flight  entwine 

New  gems  in  thy  joy-wreathed  crown ; 
May  each  in  the  smile  of  Him  be  bright. 
Who  is  changeless  Love  and  unfading  Light, 
Till  the  glory  seem  to  thy  tranced  sight 

As  heaven  to  earth  come  down. 


n,o  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


'SSiQXiwXt  Mee  Brie* 

Bonnie  wee  Eric  !  I  have  sat  beside  the  evening  fire, 
And  listened  to  the  leaping  flame  still   darting   keenl)' 

higher, 
And  all  the  while  a  lisping  voice  and  eyes  of  sunny  blue 
Out-whispered  the  flame-whisper,  and  outshone  the  flicker 

too. 

Bonnie  wee  Eric  !    To  his  home  thoughts  pleasantly  return, 
To  long  fair  evenings  in  the  land  of  ben  and  brae  and 

burn ; 
Sweet  northern  words,  so  tunefully  upon  our  Saxon  flung. 
As  if  a  mountain  breeze  swept  by  where  fairy  bells  are 

hung. 

But  sweeter  than  all  fairy  bells  of  quaint  sweet  minstrel 

tongue, 
Rang  out  wee  Eric's  gentlest  tone  when  o'er  his  cot  I 

hung, 
And  told  him  in  the  sunset  glow  once  more  the  old  dear 

story 
Of  Him  who  walked  the  earth  that  we  might  walk  with 

Him  in  glory. 

•  He  loves  the  little  children  so ; — does  darling  Eric  love 

Him?' 
I  think  the  angels  must  have  smiled  a  rainbow-smile  above 

him, 
Yet  hardly  brighter  than  his  own,  that  lit  the  answer  true, 
'  Jesus,  the  kind  good  Jesus  !    Me  do,  oh  yes,  me  do  ! ' 


BONNIE  WEE  ERIC.  131 


Bonnie  wee  Eric  !    How  the  thought  of  heaven  is  full  of  joy, 
And  death  has  not  a  shadow  for  the  merry  healthful  boy ! 
To  hear  about  the  happy  home  he  gladly  turns  away 
From  picture  books,  or  Noah's  ark,  or  any  game  of  play. 

'  Mamma,  some  day  me  die,  and  then  the  angels  take  me 

home 
To  Jesus,  and  me  sing  to  Him ; — Papa  and  you  too  come.' 
So  brightly  said  !     '  But,  Eric,  would  you  really  like  to  die  ?  ' 
She  answered  him ;  '  then,  darling,  tell  mamma  the  reason 

why?' 

A.nd  then  the  sunny  eyes  looked  up,  and  seemed  at  once 

to  be 
Filled  with  a  happy  solemn  light,  like  sunrise  on  the  sea ; 
He  said — *Yes,  me  would  X'^o.  to  di\&,for  vie  knoiv  ivhere 

7ne  going /^ 
What  saint-like  longing,  baby  lips  !  and  oh  !  what  blessed 

knowing  ! 

The  lesson  of  the  '  little  child '  is  sweetly  learnt  from  him  ; 
No  questioning,  no  anxious  faith  all  tremulous  and  dim. 
No  drowsy  love  that  hardly  knows  if  it  be  love  indeed ; 
Not  'think'  or  'hope,'  but — 'Oh  me  do,' — 'me  knotv,' — 
his  simple  creed. 

Bonnie   wee    Eric !     Hardly   launched    on    this   world's 

troubled  sea. 
We  know  the  little  bark  is  safe  whate'er  its  course  may  be , 
And  short  or  long,  or  fair  or  rough,  our  hearts  are  glad  in 

knowing 
It  will  be  onward,  heavenward  still,  for  he  '  knows  w/icr^ 

he's  going.' 


n,2  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


/HbS  Sweet  MooDi'uff. 

No  more  the  flowers  of  spring  are  seen, 
And  silence  fills  the  summer  noon  ; 
The  woods  have  lost  the  fresh  bright  green 
Of  May  and  June. 

But  yesterday  I  found  a  flower, 
Deep  sheltered  from  the  withering  rays, 
Which  might  have  known  the  sun  and  shower 
Of  April  days. 

I  did  not  think  again  to  find 
Such  tender  relic  of  the  spring ; 
It  thrilled  such  gladness  through  my  mind, 
I  needs  must  sing. 

My  girlhood's  spring  has  passed  for  aye, 
With  many  a  fairy  tint  and  tone ; 
The  heat  and  burden  of  the  day 
Are  better  known. 

But  by  my  summer  path  has  sprung 
A  flower  of  happy  love,  as  fair 
As  e'er  a  subtle  fragrance  flung 

On  spring's  clear  air. 

I  hardly  thought  to  feel  again 
Such  dewy  freshness  in  my  heart, 
And  so  one  little  loving  strain 

Must  upward  start. 


OUR  GEM  WREATH.  133 


There  was  spring-sunshine  in  my  eyes, 
I  had  such  joy  in  finding  you 
So  full  of  all  I  love  and  prize, 
So  dear  and  true. 

My  heart  is  richer  far  to-day 
Than  when  I  came  a  week  ago ; 
How  near  to  me  such  treasure  lay 
I  did  not  know  ! 

The  long  parenthesis  is  o'er, 
And  now,  in  letters  all  of  light, 
The  story  of  our  love  once  more 
We  both  may  write. 

I  have  no  words  to  breathe  the  praise 
Which  now  for  this  '  good  gift '  I  owe  : 
A  wordless  anthem  I  must  raise, 
But  HE  will  know. 


®ur  0cm  Mreatb. 

Heard  ye  the  sounds  of  joyous  glee, 

And  the  notes  of  merry  minstrelsy, 

And  the  purling  of  low,  sweet  words  which  otart 

From  the  silent  depths  of  a  loving  heart ; 

And  the  gushing  laugh,  and  the  rippling  song, 

As  the  summer  days  sped  swift  along  ? 

Saw  ye  the  gleam  of  sunny  hair. 
And  the  glancing  of  forms  yet  young  and  fair, 


134  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

And  the  dancing  light  of  happy  eyes, 
And  smiles  like  the  rosy  morning  skies 
Saw  ye  and  heard  ?  and  would  ye  not  know 
What  made  such  mirth  and  music  flow  ? 


There  were  maidens  five,  as  blithe  and  free 

As  the  curbless  waves  of  the  open  sea : 

They  met ; — ye  may  liken  their  early  greeting 

To  the  dewdrops  on  a  rose-leaf  meeting ; 

Then  many  a  day  flew  uncounted  by, 

With  Love  like  an  angel  hovering  nigh, 

While  the  ruby  light  of  his  sparkling  wing 

Flung  a  tint  of  joy  on  everything. 

'  In  books,  or  works,  or  healthful  play,' 

As  the  merriest  lips  would  often  say, 

Or  in  strange  attempts  to  weave  a  spell 

Which  might  bid  the  Muses  among  them  dwell, 

Or  in  a  stream  of  mingled  song. 

Some  of  their  hours  have  passed  along ; 

Bearing  the  sound  of  each  pleasant  lay, 

And  the  echo  of  many  a  laugh,  away. 

When  the  burning  day  is  on  the  wane. 
They  wander  through  some  darkening  lane, 
In  quieter  converse  lingering  awhile 
'Neath  the  arching  roof  of  its  shadowy  aisle. 

Where  the  latest  sunbeams  kiss  the  brow 
Of  Malvern's  Beacon,  see  them  now ; 
Springing  o'er  moss-bed,  and  rock,  and  stone, 
As  though  the  green  earth  were  all  their  own ; 
And  singing  forth  to  the  fair  wide  scene, 
In  a  loyal  chorus,  '  God  save  the  Queen  I* 


OUR  GEM  WREATH.  I35 


Again,  from  out  the  busy  street, 
They  pass  with  gladly  reverent  feet 
Within  the  old  cathedral's  shade ; 
And  feel  the  sacred  silence  laid 
Upon  the  lips,  upon  the  heart, 
By  time  and  place  thus  'set  apart.' 
Then  the  anthem  fills  the  glorious  fane, 
Till  its  solemn  tones  float  back  again, 
Round  arch  and  column  the  sound  enwreathing, 
Till  they  seem  with  holy  music  breathing, — 
Music  and  love ;  while  the  choral  praise 
Images  better  and  holier  days. 

Yet  once  again  ; — with  low  bent  head, 
They  are  kneeling  where  the  Feast  is  spread ; 
Not  one  is  absent,  all  are  there. 
Its  silent  blessedness  to  share. 
Well  may  a  bond  of  love  be  felt. 
When  thus  together  they  have  knelt. 

Would  ye  know  the  maidens  five,  oh  say  ? 
The  meek,  the  merry,  the  grave,  the  gay : 
Each  jewel  of  all  the  sunlit  cluster 
Shines  with  its  own  unborrowed  lustre ; — 
Then  listen  and  gaze,  while  each  shall  pass, 
As  a  half-seen  vision  in  magic  glass. 

I. 

A  quiet  summer  evening,  when  the  daybeams'  heat  and 

glare 
Have  passed  away,  and  coolness  comes  upon  the  cloudless 

air. 


136  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

And  the  soft  grey  twilight  wakes  the  stars  to  gUsten  o'er 

the  hill, 
And  the  only  vesper-chime  is  rung  by  one  low-murmuring 

rill: 

Like  such  an  evening  is  the  soul  of  that  one  dark-eyed 

maid, 
Amid  earth's  restless  turmoil  like  a  calm  and  pleasant 

shade ; 
S'o  soothing  and  so  gently  sweet  her  words  of  deep  love 

fall 
Upon  the  wearied  spirit,  like  the  ringdove's  forest  call. 

Well  hath  she  learnt  to  sympathize  with  every  hope  and 

fear, 
Well  hath  she  learnt  the  sorrowing  heart  to  brighten  and 

to  cheer ; 
Long  years  of  weary  weakness  have  not  passed  away  in 

vain, 
If  the  holy  art  of  sympathy  they  taught  her  to  attain. 

Her  fairy  footstep  falleth  as  a  noiseless  flake  of  snow. 
So  violet-like  and  still  that  we  her  presence  hardly  know ; 
But  like  a  gleaming  vessel-path,  far  glittering  through  the 

night, 
She  leaves  a  memory  behind  of  soft  and  silvery  light. 

Within  the  crystal  cavern  of  retirement  ye  find 
That  gem  of  inward  radiance,  her  '  meek  and  quiet '  mind ; 
Not  like  the  flashing  topaz,  or  the  ruby's  gorgeous  glow, 
She  is  a  precious  Amethyst,  whose  value  well  we  know. 


OUR  GEM  WREATH.  137 


II. 

Now  turn  we  to  that  merry  maiden, 
With  azure  eye,  and  smooth  bright  hair ; 
A  Uly  blossom,  fragrance-laden, 
Is  not  more  fair. 

A  dewdrop  to  the  thirsty  flower, 
A  sun-ray  gilding  every  cloud, 
A  rainbow  when  the  thunder-shower 
Is  rushing  loud ; 

A  spirit  full  of  pleasant  brightness. 
That  speaks  from  lip,  and  cheek,  and  brow, 
To  whose  glad  spell  of  cheering  lightness 
E'en  grief  must  bow. 

Her  hand  hath  learnt  with  wondrous  power 
Scenes  of  rare  loveliness  to  trace, 
And  picture  forms  with  airy  dower 
Of  beauteous  grace. 

The  breath  of  flattery  hath  not  tainted 
Her  simple  thought  with  pride's  dark  stain : 
Because  her  leaves  are  richly  painted, 
Is  the  rose  vain  ? 

Then,  as  an  orient  Emerald  shining, 
Long  may  her  loveliness  be  set 
Among  the  sister-gems,  entwining 
Our  coronet 


138  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


III. 

Say,  who  shall  form  the  vision-centre  now  ? 
She  of  the  large,  soft  eye,  and  pensive  smile, 
She  of  the  earnest  gaze,  and  thoughtful  brow  : 
Who  would  not  love  to  read  her  looks  awhile, 
Or  list  that  often  silent  voice-,  whose  flow 
Like  distant  waterfall  is  heard,  so  sweet  and  low  ? 

Not  many  summers  o'er  her  youth  have  cast 
Their  varying  sun  and  shade,  and  we  might  deem 
No  breath  of  sadness  o'er  her  soul  had  passed, 
But  for  that  orb  subdued,  like  some  lone  stream. 
Where  the  sad  willows  rest  in  shadowy  love. 
While  its  blue  depth  reflects  the  sunlit  heaven  above. 

All  calmness,  yet  deep  sorrow  she  hath  known, 

Dimming  the  star  of  hope  which  shone  so  clear, 

The  song  of  life  hath  changed  its  joyous  tone, 

The  pearl  of  life  hath  melted  to  a  tear ; 

But  star  and  song  shall  rise  in  brighter  day, 

And  hers  that  priceless  Pearl  which  none  may  take  away. 

Her  sorrow,  all  unspoken,  doth  but  twine 

Our  earnest  love  more  changelessly  around  her  ; 

While  we  look  onward,  upward,  for  the  time 

When  Joy's  fair  garland  shall  again  have  crowned  her, 

Who  as  the  Pearl  of  all  our  wreath  is  gleaming. 

In  mild  and  moonlit  radiance  softly  'mid  us  beaming. 

IV. 

Like  a  flash  of  meteor  light, 
Strangely  gladdening  and  bright, 


A 


OUR  GEM  WREATH.  139 

Is  the  youngest  of  the  band, 
Making  every  heart  expand. 

Like  a  petrel  on  the  wave, 
What  to  her  though  tempests  rave  ? 
She  \vill  skim  each  foamy  crest, 
Making  all  around  her  blest. 

Like  a  song-bird  of  the  spring, 
She  is  ever  on  the  wing ; 
Carolling  in  blithest  glee. 
Like  the  wild  breeze,  fresh  and  free. 

Like  a  beautiful  gazelle 
Bounding  over  hill  and  dell ; 
Like  the  scented  hawthorn-flowers, 
Ever  scattering  blossom-showers. 

Can  a  star  of  light  be  found, 
Shedding  aught  but  light  around  ? 
Joy  and  gladness  must  be  nigh, 
Wliere  her  starry  pinions  fly. 

Clear  and  open  as  the  day, 
All  may  trust  her  glancing  ray. 
All  must  love  its  rainbow  light : 
Is  she  not  a  Diamond  bright? 

V. 

And  the  last  maiden, — what  is  she  ? 
She  sees  not  herself  as  others  see, 
From  an  outward  point  of  view  ; 


140  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


She  only  knows  the  scenes  within, 
The  weary  conflict,  and  the  sin, 
The  strivings  a  better  hfe  to  win, 
And  the  gleams  of  gladness  too. 

But  little  she  knows  of  the  secret  cells, 
Where  in  lonely  twilight  the  spirit  dwells 

In  an  ever  mysterious  home. 
Where  music,  and  beauty,  and  sweet  perfume, 
Grim  storms,  and  the  blackness  of  the  tomb. 
In  morning  brightness,  and  midnight  gloom, 

In  an  untracked  labyrinth  roam. 

How  many  a  chamber  within  is  sealed  ! 
How  wondrous  the  little  that  is  revealed 

In  a  scarce-caught  whispering  tone  ! 
Strange  thoughts  come  forth  to  her  outer  gaze, 
Wild  fancies  flash  with  spectral  rays, 
And  feelings  glow  with  uncertain  blaze ; 

But  their  fountain  is  all  unknown.  \ 

Ah  !  she  would  long  to  glean  a  ray 
From  each  lovely  gem  of  this  summer  lay, 

For  her  own  are  faint  and  few. 
The  tremulous  Opal's  changeful  light 
May  emblem  her,  now  dark,  now  bright, 
Yet  blending  in  love  with  each  sister  sprite 

In  a  union  fond  and  true. 


Such  are  the  five,  as  now  they  seem 
In  the  golden  haze  of  Memory's  dream. 


MY  NAME.  141 


But  the  future !  who  may  lift  the  veil 
And  read  its  yet  unwritten  tale ! 
The  rose,  or  the  thorn,  the  sun,  the  cloud, 
The  gleeful  heart,  or  the  spirit  bowed, 
The  song  of  joy,  or  the  wail  of  woe, 
Which  shall  be  theirs,  we  may  not  know. 
Then  sorrow  and  joy  alike  we  leave 

In  the  Hand  which  doeth  all  things  well, 
And  calmly  from  that  Hand  receive 

All  that  each  coming  year  may  tell. 
Our  jewel-garland  lives  by  Him ; 

We  would  not  ask  of  Life  or  Death, 
Who  first  shall  break  its  shining  rim  ; 

It  shall  be  as  the  Master  saith  : 
He  only  shall  untwine  the  bond, 
So  fair  and  faithful,  fresh  and  fond. 
But  oh  that  each  who  glistens  now 

In  this  verse-woven  coronet. 
Upon  the  Saviour's  thorn-wreathed  brow 

May  as  a  living  gem  be  set ! 
Then  never  shall  their  light  grow  dim ; 
Redeemed  and  sanctified  by  Him, 
Their  life  and  love  in  blended  rays 
Shall  shine  in  everlasting  praise. 


From  childish  days  I  never  heard 
My  own  baptismal  name ; 

*  Suggested  by  the  question,  '  What  does  the  letter  R  in  your  initials 
(F.  R.  H.)  represent?' 


142  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


Too  small,  too  slight,  too  full  of  glee 
Aught  else  but  '  Little  Fan '  to  be, 
The  stately  '  Frances '  not  in  me 
Could  any  fitness  claim. 

Now,  in  the  crowded  halls  of  life, 

May  it  be  mine  to  bring 
Some  gentle  stir  of  the  heated  air. 
Some  coolness  falling  fresh  and  fair, 

Like  a  passing  angel's  wing. 

My  father's  name, — oh  how  I  love 

Its  else  unwonted  look  ! 
For  his  dear  sake  right  dear  I  hold 
Each  letter,  changed,  as  he  has  told, 
Long  since  from  early  Saxon  mould — 

'  The  rising  of  the  brook.'  ^ 

Of  music,  hoHness,  and  love 
That  name  will  always  tell. 
While  sacred  chant  and  anthem  rise. 
Or  mourners  live  whose  deepest  sighs 
To  echoes  of  a  Father's  will 
He  tuned,  or  child,  or  grandchild  still 
On  his  bright  memory  dwell. 

But  '  what  the  R  doth  represent,' 

I  value  and  revere  ; 
A  diamond  clasp  it  seems  to  be 
On  golden  chains  enlinking  me 

X  '  Jleavergiir— the  heaving  or  rising  of  the  brook,  or  gill. 


MY  NAME.  143 


In  loyal  love  to  England's  hope, 
Bulwark  'gainst  infidel  and  Pope, 
The  Church  I  hold  so  dear. 

Three  hundred  years  ago  was  one 

Who  held  with  stedfast  hand 
That  chalice  of  the  truth  of  God, 
And  poured  its  crystal  stream  abroad 

Upon  the  thirsting  land. 

The  moderate,  the  wise,  the  calm, 
The  learned,  brave,  and  good,^ 

A  guardian  of  the  sacred  ark, 

A  burning  light  in  places  dark. 

For  cruel,  changeless  Rome  a  mark, 
Our  Bishop  RIDLEY  stood. 

The  vengeance  of  that  foe  nought  else 

But  fiery  doom  could  still : 
Too  surely  fell  the  lightning  stroke 
Upon  that  noble  English  oak. 
Whose  acorn-memory  survives 
In  forest  ranks  of  earnest  lives, 

And  martyr-souls  in  will. 

Rome  offered  life  for  faith  laid  down  : 

Such  ransom  paid  not  he  ! 
'  As  long  as  breath  is  in  this  frame, 
My  Lord  and  Saviour  Christ  His  name 

*  '  A  man  beautified  with  such  excellent  qualities,  so  ghostly  inspired 
and  godly  learned,  and  now  written  doubtless  in  the  book  of  life  with  tiie 
blessed  saints  of  the  Almighty,  crowned  and  throned  amongst  the 
glorious  company  of  martyrs.' — Foxes  Acts  and  Monuments, 


144  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


And  His  known  truth  I'll  not  deny  : ' 
He  said  (and  raised  his  head  on  high), 
'  God's  will  be  done  in  me.'^ 

He  knelt  and  prayed,  and  kissed  the  stake, 

And  blessed  his  Master's  name 
That  he  was  called  His  cross  to  take, 
And  counted  worthy  for  His  sake 
To  suffer  death  and  shame. ^ 

Though  fierce  the  fire  and  long  the  pain, 

The  martyr's  God  was  nigh ; 
Till  from  that  awful  underglow 
Of  torture  terrible  and  slow, 
Above  the  weeping  round  about, 
Once  more  the  powerful  voice  rang  out 
His  Saviour's  own  last  cry. 

Oh  faithful  unto  death !  the  crown 

Was  shining  on  thy  brow, 
Before  the  ruddy  embers  paling, 
And  sobbing  after-gusts  of  wailing 
Had  died  away,  and  left  in  silence 
That  truest  shrine  of  British  Islands, 

That  spot  so  sacred  now ! 

In  dear  old  England  shineth  yet 

The  candle  lit  that  day ; 
Right  clear  and  strong  its  flames  arise, 
Undimmed,  unchanged,  toward  the  skies, 
By  God's  good  grace  it  never  dies, 

A  living  torch  for  aye. 

1  Sec  Works  of  Bishop  Ridley,  Parker  Society,  pp.  295  and  296. 
«  Ibid. 


FAITH  AND  REASOA^.  145 

'T  is  said  that  while  he  calmly  stood 

And  waited  for  the  flame, 
He  gave  each  trifle  that  he  had, 
True  relic-treasure,  dear  and  sad, 

To  each  who  cared  to  claim. 
I  was  not  there  to  ask  a  share, 
But  reverently  for  ever  wear 

That  noble  martyr's  najne. 


Ifaltb  an&  IReason. 

Reason  unstrings  the  harp  to  see 

Wherein  the  music  dwells ; 
Faith  pours  a  Hallelujah  song, 

And  heavenly  rapture  swells. 
While  Reason  strives  to  count  the  drops 

That  lave  our  narrow  strand, 
Faith  launches  o'er  the  mighty  deep, 

To  seek  a  better  land. 


One  is  the  foot  that  slowly  treads 

Where  darkling  mists  enshroud ; 
The  other  is  the  wing  that  cleaves 

Each  heaven-obscuring  cloud. 
Reason,  the  eye  which  sees  but  that 

On  which  its  glance  is  cast ; 
Faith  is  the  thought  that  blends  in  one 

The  Future  and  the  Past. 

K 


146  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

In  hours  of  darkness,  Reason  waits, 

Like  those  in  days  of  yore, 
Who  rose  not  from  their  night-bound  place, 

On  dark  Egyptian  shore. 
But  Faith  more  firmly  clasps  the  hand 

Which  led  her  all  the  day, 
And  when  the  wished  for  morning  dawns. 

Is  farther  on  her  way. 

By  Reason's  alchemy  in  vain 

Is  golden  treasure  planned ; 
Faith  meekly  takes  a  priceless  crown, 

Won  by  no  mortal  hand. 
While  Reason  is  the  labouring  oar 

That  smites  the  wrathful  seas, 
Faith  is  the  snowy  sail  spread  out 

To  catch  the  freshening  breeze. 

Reason,  the  telescope  that  scans 

A  universe  of  light ; 
But  Faith,  the  angel  who  may  dwell 

Among  those  regions  bright. 
Reason,  a  lonely  towering  elm, 

May  fall  before  the  blast ; 
Faith,  like  the  ivy  on  the  rock, 

Is  safe  in  clinging  fast. 

While  Reason,  like  a  Levite,  waits 
Where  priest  and  people  meet. 

Faith,  by  a  '  new  and  living  way,' 
Hath  gained  the  mercy-seat. 


FAITH  AND  REASON.  (47 


While  Reason  but  returns  to  tell 

That  this  is  not  our  rest, 
Faith,  like  a  weary  dove,  hath  sought 

A  gracious  Saviour's  breast. 

Yet  both  are  surely  precious  gifts 

From  Him  who  leads  us  home ; 
Though  in  the  wilds  Himself  hath  trod 

A  little  while  we  roam. 
And,  hnked  within  the  soul  that  knows 

A  living,  loving  Lord, 
Faith  strikes  the  key-note.  Reason  then 

Fills  up  the  full-toned  chord. 

Faith  is  the  upward-pointing  spire 

O'er  life's  great  temple  springing, 
From  which  the  chimes  of  love  float  forth 

Celestially  ringing ; 
While  Reason  stands  below  upon 

The  consecrated  ground, 
And,  like  a  mighty  buttress,  clasps 

The  wide  foundation  round. 

Faith  is  the  bride  that  stands  enrobed 

In  white  and  pure  array ; 
Reason,  the  handmaid  who  may  share 

The  gladness  of  the  day. 
Faith  leads  the  way,  and  Reason  learns 

To  follow  in  her  train ; 
Till,  step  by  step,  the  goal  is  reached 

And  death  is  glorious  gain. 


148  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


X^nton, 

Why  does  it  seem  familiar  ground  ? 

I  was  never  here  before ; 
I  never  saw  this  fairy  dream 
Of  wood  and  wave,  of  rock  and  stream, 
Nor  watched  the  snowy  foam-line  gleam 

On  Devon's  bay-loved  shore. 

It  feels  as  weird  and  strange  as  though 

My  spirit  had  been  here ; 
And  in  the  mists  of  long  ago 
An  outline  wavers  to  and  fro, 
Now  colourless,  now  all  aglow, 

Now  faint,  now  wondrous  clear. 

I  know  it  now — the  teiider  spell 

On  all  this  pleasant  scene ; 
For  memory's  first  pale  flickering  light 
Falls  on  a  long-forgotten  night, 
Though  conscious  lifetime,  dark  and  brightj 

Lies  all  outstretched  between. 

The  dearest  name  I  ever  spoke 

Was  on  my  lips  that  eve  ; 
We  gave  her  '  welcome  home '  once  more, 
Unknown,  the  last  short  absence  o'er ; 
And  now,  she  is  but  '  gone  before 

The  palm-branch  to  receive. 

I  know  it  now, — she  told  me  all ; 

I  sat  upon  her  knee, 
And  heard  about  the  cliff  so  tall. 


LYNTON.  149 


The  craggy  path,  the  rocky  wall, 
The  ever-chanting  waterfall, 
The  silver  autumn  sea : 

The  steep  and  dangerous  way  above, 

The  winding  dell  beneath ; 
The  rushing  Lyn,  the  shadowy  trees, 
The  hills  that  breast  the  Channel-breeze, 
The  white  ships  bound  for  western  seas ; 
One  shining  marvel-wreath  ! 

A  little  picture  she  had  brought 

Of  Lynton's  lovely  vale  : 
I  fastened  it  upon  my  wall, 
Half  deeming  I  had  seen  it  all ; 
While  colours  came  at  fancy's  call 

To  deck  those  outlines  pale. 

Hers  then  the  charm,  so  strangely  sweet, 

Which  made  me  sit  and  gaze ; 
'T  is  like  a  breeze  from  far-off  hills. 
Or  midnight  anthem  of  wild  rills. 
That  cools  the  fever-fire  which  fills 
Our  hot  and  hurried  days. 

It  may  be  that  the  parting  time 

Has  more  than  half  gone  by, 
That  ere  another  twenty  years 
Have  mingled  all  their  smiles  and  tears, 
We  may  have  passed  all  griefs  and  fears, 
And  her  dear  welcome  greet  our  ears 
To  her  blest  home  on  high. 


ISO  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 


Oh,  might  it  be  !     That  far-off  land 

Is  all  unseen  as  yet : 
But  when  we  pass  its  portals  fair, 
It  may  be  that  some  glory  there 
Sweetly  familiar  shall  appear, 
Because  we  heard  it  whispered  here 
By  that  soft  voice,  whose  accents  dear 

We  never  can  forget 


B  3Bittbt)a^  Gteettno  to  my  jfatber. 

i860. 

'Tis  fully  known  to  One,  by  us  yet  dimly  seen, 

The  blessing  thou  hast  been  ; 
Yet  speaks  the  silent  love  of  many  a  mourning  heart 

The  blessing  that  thou  art  ; 
While  traced  on  coming  years,  in  faith  and  hope  we  see, 

'  A  blessing  thou  shalt  be  ; ' 
Then  here  in  holy  labour,  there  in  holier  rest, 

Blessing,  thou  shalt  be  blessed. 


H  %\\\\  in  Xtfc* 

'  And  He  said  unto  them,  Come  ye  yourselves  apart  into  a  desert  place, 
and  rest  awhile  :  for  there  were  many  coming  and  going,  and  they  had  no 
leisure  so  much  as  to  eat." — Mark  vi.  31. 

Oh  for  *  a  desert  place '  with  only  the  Master's  smile ! 
Oh  for  the  'coming  apart'  with  only  His  'rest  awhile  !* 
Many  are  '  coming  and  going '  with  busy  and  restless  feet, 
And  the  soul  is  hungering  now,  with  '  no  leisure  so  much 
as  to  eat.' 


W  LULL  IN  LIFE.  151 


Dear  is  my  wealth  of  love  from  many  and  valued  friends, 
Best  of  the  earthly  gifts  that  a  bounteous  Father  sends ; 
Pleasant  the  counsel  sweet,  and  the  interchange  of  thought, 
Welcome  the  twihght  hour  with  musical  brightness  fraught. 

Dear  is  the  work  He  gives  in  many  a  varied  way, 
Little  enough  in  itself,  yet  something  for  every  day, — 
Something  by  pen  for  the  distant,  by  hand  or  voice  for 

the  near. 
Whether  to  soothe  or  teach,  whether  to  aid  or  cheer. 

Not  that  I  lightly  prize  the  treasure  of  valued  friends, 
Not  that  I  turn  aside  from  the  work  the  Master  sends. 
Yet  I  have  longed  for  a  pause  in  the  rush  and  whirl  of  time, 
Longed  for  silence  to  fall  instead  of  its  merriest  chime : 

Longed  for  a  hush  to  group  the  harmonies  of  thought 
Round  each  melodious  strain  that  the  harp  of  life  hath 

caught, 
And  time  for  the  fitful  breeze  ^olian  chords  to  bring, 
Waking  the  music  that  slept,  mute  in  the  tensionless  string  : 

Longed  for  a  calm  to  let  the  circles  die  away 
That  tremble  over  the  heart,  breaking  the  heavenly  ray, 
And  to  leave  its  wavering  mirror  true  to  the  Star  above. 
Brightened  and  stilled  to  its  depths  with  the   quiet   of 
'  perfect  love : ' 

Longed  for  a  sabbath  of  life,  a  time  of  renewing  of  youth. 
For  a  full-orbed  leisure  to  shine  on  the  fountains  of  holy 

truth ; 
And  to  fill  my  chalice  anew  with  its  waters  fresh  and  sweet, 
While  resting  in  silent  love  at  the  Master's  glorious  feet. 


152  THE  MINISTRY  OF  SONG. 

There  are  songs  which  onJy  flow  in  the  lonehest  shades 

of  night, 
There  are  flowers  which  cannot  grow  in  a  blaze  of  tropical 

light, 
There  are  crystals  which  cannot  form  till  the  vessel  be 

cooled  and  stilled ; 
Crystal,  and  flower,  and  song,  given  as  God  hath  willed. 

There  is  work  which  cannot  be  done  in  the  swell  of  a 

hurrying  tide, 
But  my  hand  is  not  on  the  helm  to  turn  my  bark  aside ; 
Yet  I  cast  a  longing  eye  on  the  hidden  and  waveless  pool, 
Under  the  shadowing  rock,  currentless,  clear,  and  cool. 

Well !  I  will  wait  in  the  crowd  till  He  shall  call  me  apart, 
Till  the  silence  fall  which  shall  waken  the  music  of  mind 

and  heart ; 
Patiently  wait  till  He  give  the  work  of  my  secret  choice, 
Blending  the  song  of  life  with  the  thrill  of  the  Master's 

voice. 


abotatfott* 

0  Master,  at  Thy  feet 

1  bow  in  rapture  sweet ! 
Before  me,  as  in  darkening  glassy 

Some  glorious  outlines  pass. 
Of  love,  and  truth,  and  holiness,  and  power ; 
1  own  them  Thine,  O  Christ,  and  bless  Thee  for  thisr 
hour. 


ADORATION.  15^ 


0  full  of  truth  and  grace, 
Smile  of  Jehovah's  face, 

O  tenderest  heart  of  love  untold  ! 

Who  may  Thy  praise  unfold  ? 
Thee,  Saviour,  Lord  of  lords  and  King  of  kings, 
Well  may  adoring  seraphs  hymn  with  veiling  wings. 

1  have  no  words  to  bring  . 
Worthy  of  Thee,  my  King, 

And  yet  one  anthem  in  Thy  praise 

I  long,  I  long  to  raise ; 
The  heart  is  full,  the  eye  entranced  above, 
But  words  all  melt  away  in  silent  awe  and  love. 

How  can  the  lip  be  dumb, 

The  hand  all  still  and  numb, 
When  Thee  the  heart  doth  see  and  own 

Her  Lord  and  God  alone  ? 
Tune  for  Thyself  the  music  of  my  days. 
And  open  Thou  my  lips  that  I  may  show  Thy  praise. 

Yea,  let  my  whole  life  be 
One  anthem  unto  Thee, 
And  let  the  praise  of  lip  and  life 

Outring  all  sin  and  strife. 
O  Jesus,  Master !  be  Thy  name  supreme 
For  heaven  and  earth  the  one,  the  grand,  the  eternal 
theme. 


Early  Poems. 


*/  LEA  VE  IT  ALL  WITH  THEE.  157 


'%  leave  it  all  witb  XTbee.' 

Yes,  I  will  leave  it  all  wil'n  Thee, 
And  only  ask  that  I  may  be 
Submissive  to  Thy  loving  will, 
Confiding,  waiting,  trusting  still. 
Thou  every  fond  desire  dost  know 
Which  in  my  inmost  heart  doth  glow ; 
Thou  hearest  every  secret  sigh 
When  silent  sorrow's  power  is  nigh. 
Omniscience  alone  may  tell 
The  thoughts  which  in  my  spirit  dwell ; 
But  't  is  a  soothing  word  to  me, 
'  My  Father  every  thought  can  see.' 
He  knows  them  all — the  hopes — the  fears- 
Confided  not  to  mortal  ears. 
He  knows  the  deep  intensity 
Of  feelings  wakened  now  in  me. 
And  if  He  knows  tliem,  't  is  enough  ! 
I  need  not  fear  a  stern  rebuff; 
There's  sympathy  within  His  breast, 
On  which  my  weary  heart  can  rest. 
Nor  is  there  sympathy  alone, 
Almighty  is  my  Father's  throne. 
And  He  can  grant  me  each  desire ; 
His  gracious  hand  may  never  tire. 
He  can.     But  will  He  ?     Trust  Him  yet, 
My  faithless  soul !     Can  I  forget 


»58  EARLY  POEMS. 


That  He  hath  passed  His  word  of  old — 

'  Not  one  good  thing  will  He  withhold 

From  them,  the  children  of  My  love, 

Whose  hearts  are  set  on  things  above '  ? 

Not  one  good  thing !     But  can  I  see 

What  may  be  good,  what  ill  for  me? 

Can  I  unbar  the  massy  gate 

Which  hides  from  me  the  way  I  take? 

But  His  eye  turneth  night  to  day, 

E'en  like  the  lightning's  piercing  ray ; 

Then  here  is  my  security, 

That  God  my  truest  good  doth  see. 

That  joy  which  earnestly  I  crave, 

O'er  which  my  fondest  hopes  now  wave, 

Might  prove  to  me  the  shade  of  death  ! 

That  healing  breeze — the  Simoom's  breath, 

If  so — it  never  will  be  mine. 

At  such  a  loss  shall  I  repine  ? 

No  !  let  me  rather  praise  the  Hand 

Which  looseneth  the  dangerous  band. 

But  if  it  be  a  heaven-born  plant. 

For  whose  sweet  flowers  my  soul  doth  pant 

If  heavenly  gladness  it  shall  bring, 

And  raise  my  soul  on  angel  wing, 

Till  nearer  Thee  each  day  I  live, — 

Oh,  then  that  blessing  Thou  wilt  give. 

The  joy  scarce  hoped  for  shall  be  mine, 

A  deeply  grateful  heart  be  Thine ! 

Then  I  will  leave  it  all  with  Thee  ! 

My  Father,  grant  that  I  may  be 

Submissive  to  Thine  own  good  will, 

Confiding,  waiting,  loving  still ! 


MATTHEW  XIV.  23.  159 


/iDattbew  jiv.  23» 

It  is  the  quiet  evening  time,  the  sun  is  in  the  west, 

And  earth  enrobed   in   purple   glow  awaits  her   nightly 

rest; 
The  shadows  of  the  mountain  peaks  are  lengthening  o'er 

the  sea, 
And   the   flowerets   close  their  eyelids  on  the  shore  of 

Galilee. 
The  multitude  are  gone  away,  their  restless  hum  doth  cease, 
The  birds  have  hushed  their  music,  and  all  is  calm  and 

peace ; 
I3ut  on  the  lowly  mountain  side  is  One,  whose  beauteous 

brow 
The  impress  bears  of  sorrow  and  of  weariness  e'en  now. 
The  livelong  day  in  deeds  of  love  and  power  He  hath 

spent. 
And  with  them  words  of  grace  and  life  hath  ever  sweetly 

blent. 
Now  He  hath  gained  the  mountain  top,  He  standeth  all 

alone, 
No  mortal  may  be  near  Him  in  that  hour  of  prayer  un- 
known. 
He  prayeth. — But  for  whom  ?     For  Himself  He  needeth 

nought ; 
Nor  strength,  nor  peace,  nor  pardon,  where  of  sin  there  is 

no  spot ; 
But  'tis  for  us  in  powerful  prayer  He  spendeth  all  the 

night, 
That  His  own  loved  ones  may  be  kept  and  strengthened 

in  the  fight ; 


i6o  EARLY  POEMS. 


That  they  may  all  be  sanctified,  and  perfect  made  in  one ; 
That  they  His  glory  may  behold  where  they  shall  need  no 

sun; 
That  in  eternal  gladness  they  may  be  His  glorious  bride : 
It  is  for  this  that  He  hath  climbed  the  lonely  mountain 

side. 
It  is  for  this  that  He  denies  His  weary  head  the  rest 
Which  e'en  the  foxes  in  their  holes,  and  birds  have  in 

their  nest. 
The  echo  of  that  prayer  hath  died  upon  the  rocky  hill, 
But  on  a  higher,  holier  mount  that  Voice  is  pleading  still ; 
For  while  one  weary  child  of  His  yet  wanders  here  below, 
While  yet  one  thirsting  soul  desires  His  peace  and  love  to 

know, 
And  while  one  fainting  spirit  seeks  His  holiness  to  share. 
The  Saviour's  loving  heart  shall  pour  a  tide  of  mighty 

prayer ; 
Yes  !  till  each  ransomed  one  hath  gained  His  home  of  joy 

and  peace. 
That  Fount  of  Blessings  all  untold  shall  never,  never  cease. 


/Iftattbew  wo\,  30, 

'  And  when  they  had  sung  an  hymn,  they  went  out.' 

The  sun  hath  gilded  Judah's  hills 
With  his  last  gorgeous  beam ; 

Ghost-like  the  still  grey  mists  arise 
From  Jordan's  sacred  stream. 

The  stars,  bright  flowers  of  the  sky, 
Unfold  their  beauties  now. 


MA  TTHE  W  XX  VI.  30.  1 6  j 

And  gaze  on  Salem's  marble  fane, 

By  Olivet's  dark  brow. 
In  David's  city  sound  is  hushed 

And  tread  of  busy  feet, 
For  solemnly  his  sons  have  met 

The  paschal  lamb  to  eat. 
But  list !  the  silence  of  the  hour 

Is  broken  ;  the  still  air 
A  melody  hath  caught  which  far 

Its  viewless  pinions  bear. 
Unwonted  sweetness  hath  the  strain, 

And  as  its  numbers  flow. 
More  tender  and  more  touching  yet 

Its  harmony  doth  grow. 
Not  royal  David's  tuneful  harp 

Such  thrilling  power  had  kliown 
To  wake  deep  echoes  in  the  soul. 

As  its  scarce  earthly  tone. 
Within  an  '  upper  room '  are  met 

A  small,  yet  faithful  band. 
On  whom  a  deep  yet  chastened  grief 

Hath  laid  its  softening  hand. 
Among  them  there  is  One  who  wears 

A  more  than  mortal  mien, 
'T  is  He  on  whom  in  all  distress 

The  weary  one  may  lean. 
Mysterious  sadness,  on  that  brow 

So  pure  and  calm,  doth  lie  ; 
And  untold  stores  of  deepest  love 

Are  beaming  from  His  eye. 
What  wonder  if  the  strain  was  sweet 

Above  all  other  lays? 


1 62  EARLY  POEMS. 


Seraphic  well  might  seem  the  hymn 

Which  Jesu's  voice  did  raise. 
The  angels  hush  their  lyres,  and  bend 

To  hear  the  thrilling  tone, 
And  heaven  is  silent, — with  that  song 

They  jjiingle  not  their  own. 
The  sorrowing  ones  around  have  heard 

Their  blessed  Master  tell, 
That  He  with  them  no  longer  now 

As  heretofore  may  dwell. 
And  they  have  sadly  shared  with  Him 

The  last,  last  evening  meal. 
And  heard  the  last  sweet  comfort  which 

Their  mourning  hearts  may  heal. 
They  do  not  know  the  fearful  storm 

Which  on  His  head  must  burst ; 
They  know  not  all — He  hath  not  told 

His  loving  ones  the  worst. 
How  could  He  ?     E'en  an  angel's  mind 

Could  never  comprehend 
The  weight  of  woe,  'neath  which  for  us 

The  Saviour's  head  must  bend ; 
Ere  long  the  voice,  which  waketh  now 

Such  touching  melody, 
Shall  cry,  '  My  God,  My  God,  oh  why 

Hast  Thou  forsaken  Me  ?  ' 
The  hour  is  come ;  but  ere  they  meet 

Its  terrors, — yet  once  more 
Their  voices  blend  with  His  who  sang 

As  none  e'er  sang  before. 
Why  do  they  linger  on  that  note  ? 

Why  thus  the  sound  prolong  ? 


' LEAVING  us  AN  example:  163 

Ah  !  't  was  the  last !     'T  is  ended  now, 

That  strangely  solemn  song. 
And  fortli  they  go  : — the  song  is  past ; 

But,  like  the  rose-leaf,  still, 
Whose  fragrance  doth  not  die  away, 

Its  soft  low  echoes  thrill 
Through  many  a  soul,  and  there  awake 

New  strains  of  glowing  praise 
To  Him  who,  on  that  fateful  eve. 

That  last  sweet  hymn  did  raise. 


*  XeaviiiG  us  an  Bjample,  tbat  ^e  sboul^ 
XQ)\\o\o  1[3ts  Steps/ 

O  Jesu,  Thou  didst  leave  Thy  glorious  home, 

Of  brightness  more  than  mortal  eye  could  bear, 
And  joys  ineffable,  alone  to  roam 
Through  earth's  dark  wilderness  in  grief  and  want  and  care. 
Thou  didst  exchange  the  praise  of  seraph  voices 

For  sin-made  discords  and  the  wail  of  pain, 
The  anthems  swelling  high  where  each  in  Thee  rejoices 
For  fierce   revilings   in   the   world  where  unbelief  doth 


reign. 


&> 


Yes,  Thou  didst  leave  Thy  bhss-encircled  dwelling 

Of  joy  and  holiness  and  perfect  love. 
And  earnest  to  this  world  of  sorrow,  telling 

Each  weary  one  the  way  to  realms  of  rest  above. 
Mark  we  Thy  walk  along  the  holy  way, — 

Each  step  is  graven,  that  all  the  path  may  trace 
Which  leads  where  Thou  art  gone, — and  never  may 

The  powers  of  darkness  one  bright  step  erase  ! 


1 64  EARLY  POEMS. 


And  Thou  hast  left  a  solemn  word  behind  Thee, 

Solemn,  yet  fraught  with  blessing ; — would  we  learn 
How  we  may  gain  Thy  dwelling,  and  there  find  Thee  ? 
Thou  sayest,  *  Follow  Me.'    Be  this  our  great  concern. 
And  oh  how  blessed  thus  to  mark  each  hour 
The  footsteps  of  our  Saviour,  and  to  know 
That  in  them  we  are  treading, — then  each  flower  ^ 

Of  hope  seems  fairer,  and  each  joy  doth  yet  more  brightly 
glow. 
Oh  that  I  always  followed  Him  alone  ! 

I  know  that  I  am  His,  for  I  have  bowed  ■ 

In  peaceful  faith  before  my  Saviour's  throne,  \ 

And  gladly  there  to  Him  my  life,  my  all,  have  vowed. 
And  He  hath  pardoned  me,  and  washed  away 

Each  stain  of  guilt,  and  bade  me  quickly  rise 
And  follow  Him  each  moment  of  each  day ; 
And  He  hath  set  a  crown  of  life  and  joy  before  mina 
eyes. 
How  can  I  turn  aside  and  wound  the  love 

That  gave  Himself  to  bleed  and  die  for  me  ! 
How  can  I  stray,  and  grieve  the  holy  Dove 

Who  lights  my  soul,  opening  mine  eyes  to  see ! 
O  Saviour,  fix  my  wayward,  wandering  heart 

Upon  Thyself,  that  I  may  closely  cling 
To  Thy  blest  side,  and  never  more  depart 
From  Thee,  my  loved  Redeemer,  Thee,  my  heart's  own 
King. 
And  grant  me  daily  grace  to  follow  Thee 

Through  joy  and   pleasure,   or   through    grief    and 
sadness. 
Until  an  entrance  is  vouchsafed  to  me 

In  Thy  bright  home  of  holiness  and  gladness. 


0  UR  ENGLISH  SABBA  THS.  1 65 


©ur  BnoHsb  Sabbatbs. 

O  England,  thou  art  beautiful,  and  very  dear  to  me, 
And  the  spirit  of  thy  noble  sons  is  high  and  pure  and  free ; 
Full  many  a  jewel  sparkles  clear  in  the  crown  upon  thy 

brow, 
But  one  is  gleaming  fairest  in  that  glorious  garland  now. 

It  gleameth  with  a  holy  light,  too  pure  for  sinful  earth, 
In  the  twilight  of  this  shadows-land  it  hath  not  had  its  birth  ; 
'T  is  polished  by  no  mortal  hand,  its  radiance  is  its  own. 
And  it  mingleth  with  the  glory  of  the  Father's  dazzling 
throne. 

Oh,  gaze  upon  its  beauty,  reflecting  yet  the  light 

Of  Eden's  spotless,  shadeless  hours,  in  this  our  sin-made 

night ; 
Oh,  gaze  again,  and  thou  shalt  see,  in  that  all-beauteous 

ray, 
A  gleam  of  that  celestial  morn  which  ne'er  may  fade  away  ! 

It  is  a  gem  of  untold  worth,  it  is  a  golden  mine. 
The  pledge  of  an  inheritance, — a  gift  of  love  Divine ; 
A  monarch  may  not  buy  it, — oh,  then  let  it  not  be  sold ! 
Oh,  England,  dear  old  England,  this,  thy  priceless  treasure, 
hold! 

Thy  Sabbath  is  this  treasure,  a  fount  of  ceaseless  blessing, 
And  thou  art  rich  and  powerful,  this  glorious  gift  possessing; 
Oh,  heed  not  those  who  craftily  would  bid  thee  cast  away 
The  diamond  hours  of  Sabbath  rest,  no  pleasure  can  repay. 


l66  EARL  Y  POEMS. 


There  is  a  cloud  o'er  other  lands,  though  fair  their  moun- 
tains be, 
And  beautiful  their  sunny  plains,  re-echoing  with  glee ; 
But  on  our  Sabbath-loving  heart  it  casts  a  saddening  gloom, 
While  the  mirth  of  all  their  songs  is  as  the  music  of  the  tomb. 

They  know  no  holy  Sabbath  rest ;  and  yet,  above,  around, 
The  trees  are  waving  solemnly  with  a  deep  and  holy  sound ; 
And  the  flowers  smile  to  greet  His  day,  and  the  streams 

more  softly  roll, 
And  all  things  speak  of  God  to  the  silent  listening  soul. 

They  heed  it  not !  with  song  and  glee  the  hallowed  hours 

are  passed ; 
The  blessings  which  the  Sabbath  brings,  aside  are  lightlj) 

cast; 
And  'neath  the  sparkling  wavelets  of  unsanctified  delight 
Is  a  dark,  deep  stream  of  weary  toil  from  morn  to  welcome 

night. 

There  are  some  who  listen  eagerly  while  told  of  Sabbath 

rest, 
As  a  thirsting  desert  pilgrim  hears  of  Araby  the  blest ; 
'Mid   their   changeless   seven   days'  labour  they  drop  a 

hopeless  tear, 
'  Oh,  would  to  God  that  we  might  have  an  English  Sabbath 

here ! ' 

Sad  is  their  lot !  but  there  are  those  within  our  own  dear  land 
Who  would  forge  for  us  such  fetters,  and  burst  our  golden 

band. 
Who  sin  in  deeper  bondage  yet,  while  striving  to  be  free 
And  know  not  that  our  Father's  law  is  truest  Liberty! 


COLOSSIANS  in.  2.  167 


Colossfaiis  ill.  2» 

Why  do  we  cling  to  earth  ?     Its  sweetest  pleasures 

Are  transient  as  the  snowflake  of  the  spring ; 

Like  early  mist  its  most  abiding  treasures, 

Or  foam  of  ocean  wave.     To  earth  why  do  we  cling  ? 

Why  do  we  cling  to  earth  ?     Is  it  the  fleeting  brightness 
Of  her  gay  robes  ?  fair  fields,  green  forest  trees. 
Grand  mountains,  lovely  dells,  or  gleaming  whiteness 
Of  silent  snow  ?     To  heavenly  beauties  what  are  these  ? 

Lovely,  most  lovely  are  earth's  radiant  flowers, 
Her  very  smiles  of  joy,  aye  chasing  gloom ; 
But  soon  they  wither  in  her  happiest  bowers  : 
In  heaven  doth  the  Rose  of  Sharon  ever  bloom  ! 

And  beautiful  the  gleaming  wavelet  dancing, , 

And  wild  cascade,  rejoicing  to  be  free. 

And  pure,  cool  fountains  through  the  green  shades  glancing ; 

In  heaven  the  living  streams  well  forth  eternally 


t 


Most  glorious  is  the  glowing  sun  on  high. 

The  moon's  soft  brilliance  crowning  the  still  night. 

The  million  starry  diamonds  of  the  sky : 

In  heaven  is  God  Himself  the  source  of  perfect  light ! 

Sweet  is  earth's  music  !  whether  o'er  us  stealeth 
The  lyre's  calm  melody,  or  blackbird's  untaught  lay, 
Or  harmony  through  shadowy  aisles  full  pealeth : 
In  heaven  new  songs  of  rapture  angel  harps  essay ! 


i6S  EARLY  POEMS. 


What  though  the  eastern  monarch's  robes  are  gleaming 
With  gold  and  orient  gems,  each  gorgeous  hue 
With  more  than  rainbow  brightness  in  them  beaming ; 
The  robes  of  heaven  are  woven  light,  and  ever  new. 


All  these  are  beautiful ;  and  we  may  love  them 
As  His  good  gifts  ;  but  oh  !  they  pass  away : 
Then  cling  not  to  them ;  seek,  far,  far  above  them 
The  joys  ineffable,  which  fade  not,  nor  decay. 

But  cling  we  to  earth's  honours  ?     What  delusion  ! 
Immortal  souls  they  ne'er  may  satisfy ; 
How  mean,  how  small  e'en  tenfold  their  profusion 
Beside  heaven's  glorious  crown  and  palm  of  victory. 

Hath  love  of  knowledge  cast  her  fetters  o'er  us  ? 
Here  we  know  nothing  !     But  in  heaven's  bright  day 
The  lore  of  ages  will  be  spread  before  us, — 
Yes,  of  eternity  !  illumed  with  truth's  pure  ray. 

Have  we  dear  friends  our  fond  affections  chaining 
To  scenes  of  earth  ?     But  they  may  change,  nmst  die. 
In  heaven  the  purest  love  is  ever  reigning, 
Far  more  abiding  than  the  pillars  of  the  sky. 

Do  we  seek  happiness  ?     No  mirage  fleeteth 
More  quickly  than  all  happiness  below, — 
But  oh !  no  heart  may  dream  the  joy  which  meeteth 
The  soul  which  wakes  in  heaven,  its  bliss  here  none  can 
know. 


CL  0  UDS  IN  PR  OSPECT.  1 69 

Is  holiness  our  heart's  intense  desire  ? 
Then  every  glance  from  earth  must  turn  away. 
In  heaven  all  sinless  is  each  voice,  each  lyre ; 
Heaven's  holiness  is  perfect,  endless  as  its  day. 

Yes,  beauty,  light,  and  music  are  above ; 

There  honour,  wisdom,  knowledge,  all  are  given ; 

There  is  the  home  of  friendship  and  of  love, 

And  happiness  and  hoUness,  twin  flowers  of  heaven. 

But  more,  far  more  than  all !     'T  is  God's  own  dwelling, 
Thrice  blessed  thought !  ever  with  Him  to  be  ! 
Eternity  would  be  too  short  for  telling 
The  bliss  of  even  one  unveiled  glimpse  of  Thee. 

To  see,  and  know,  and  love,  and  praise  for  ever 
The  Saviour  who  hath  died  that  we  might  live, 
Where  sorrow,  pain,  and  death  may  enter  never ! 
And  ever  learn  new  cause  new  songs  of  praise  to  give  ! 

Oh,  what  a  prospect !     How,  how  can  we  cling 
To  earth's  dark  dream,  when  such  a  hope  is  given  ? 
Oh  may  we  from  this  hour,  on  faith-plumed  wing. 
No  longer  cling  to  earth,  but  soar  to  yon  bright  heaven ! 


Clouds  in  {prospect 

Oh  pleasant  have  the  hours  of  my  early  childhood  been, 
When  all  around  me  seemed  enrobed  in  brightly  glittering 
sheen ; 


170  EARLY  POEMS. 


When  a   thousand  rainbow  tints  were  in   every   simple 

flower, 
And  a  thousand  new  delights  came  with  every  sunny  hour ; 
When   I  thought  the  merry  birds  trilled  their  carols  all 

for  me, 
And   with   heart    and    voice    I   joined   in   their    joyous 

melody ; 
When  all  heedless  of  the  darkening  storm,   I  loved  the 

purple  cloud, 
And  listened  with  delight  to  the  thunder  pealing  loud. 
In  those  happy  days  of  childhood,  I  did  not  think  or  see 
That  many  trials  might  be  waiting  even  then  for  me ; 
But  now,  though  yet  I  meet  them  not,  I  know  that  they 

must  stand 
In  many  a  varied  shape  and  form,  unseen  on  every  hand. 
As  yet  from  heavy  troubles,  thank  God,  I  have  been  free  ; 
Oh,  surely  there  are  few  who  have  what  is  vouchsafed 

to  me ! 
But  one  eclipse  hath  shadowed  o'er  my  childhood's  sunny 

hours, 
And  now  its  sharpness  seemeth  past,  that  thorn  'mid  many 

flowers. 
But  still  the  saddening  feeling  cometh  oftener  than  before, 
That  many  a  future  sorrow  e'en  for  me  may  be  in  store ; 
For  all  around  me  seem  to  have  some  wearying  care  or 

grief. 
From  which  they  scarcely  dare  to  hope  on  earth  to  find 

relief. 
And  my  memory  loves  to  dwell  upon  the  merry  careless 

hours. 
When    I  thought   the  world  a   thornless  garden  full   of 

lovely  flowers. 


EARTH'S  SHADOW.  1 71 


Bartb's  Sba&ovv. 

I  HAVE  but  passed  the  first  short  stage 
Of  lite,  and  yet  I'm  growing  weary  ; 
For  every  step  towards  riper  age 
The  way  becomes  more  dreary. 

I  look  behind ; — few  years  ago 

The  world  seemed  full  of  fairy  flowers, — 

I  loved  them ;  for  I  did  not  know 

How  sin  pervades  Earth's  loveliest  bowers. 

Like  Italy's  fair  sunny  vales 
With  unknown  deathly  vapours  teeming — 
Or  like  Sahara's  sand-charged  gales 
Beneath  a  sun  unclouded  beaming, — 

Such  is  our  Earth.     Roam  where  you  will, 
Seems  loveliness  the  eye  entrancing ; 
The  silent  glen,  the  breezy  hill, 
The  sun-tipped  wavelet  blithely  dancing. 

But  gaze  again.     Each  zephyr's  breath 
Uplifts  a  veil,  dark  truths  revealing ; 
For  all  is  stained  with  sin,  and  death 
The  fairest  buds  is  grimly  sealing. 

That  sense  of  sin  !     It  casts  a  cloud 

O'er  all  Earth's  scenes  of  glee  and  pleasure 

Is  nought  then  pure  amid  her  crowd 

Of  joys?  nought  spotless  of  her  treasure? 


172  EARLY  POEMS, 


Nought,  nought !  cries  Echo.     How  I  love 
The  spirit  which  to  me  is  given  ! 
My  priceless  gem,  my  cherished  dove, 
My  sweetest,  dearest  gift  of  heaven. 

How  oft  I've  sought  for  solace  in 

My  own  loved  soul  in  hours  of  sadness : 

Oh,  how  I  love  it !     It  has  been 

My  more  than  friend,  my  fount  of  gladness. 

But  oh,  't  is  sinful !     Even  here 
My  simple  joy  and  love  are  ending; 
How  can  the  mind  to  me  be  dear 
Where  sin  with  every  thought  is  blending  ? 

If  e'en  my  Eden  is  not  pure, 
How  can  my  heart's  love  rest  below  ? 
Say,  will  the  passage-bird  endure 
To  tarry  'mid  the  northern  snow  ? 

It  cannot  rest !     Like  early  dew 
A  pure  warm  Sun  hath  called  it  higher 
Where  sin  is  not ;  where,  holy  too. 
E'en  /  may  tune  a  sinless  lyre. 


Bsptratfons, 

Oh  to  be  nearer  Thee,  my  Saviour, 
Oh  to  be  filled  with  Thy  sweet  grace, 

Oh  to  abide  in  Thine  own  favour, 
Oh  to  behold  Thy  glorious  face. 


ASPIRATIONS.  17: 


Oh  to  be  ever  upward  gazing, 

Glad  with  the  sunshine  of  Thy  love ; 

Oh  to  be  ever,  ever  praising. 
Echoing  here  the  songs  above. 

Oh  to  be  never,  never  weary 
E'en  in  the  dark  afifray  of  sin ; 

Oh  to  press  on  through  conflicts  dreary, 
One  of  Thine  own  dear  smiles  to  win. 

Oh  to  desire  to  spread  Thy  glory, 

Seeking  it  as  my  only  aim  ; 
Oh  to  be  taught  Thy  strange  sweet  story 

Worthily,  fully  to  proclaim. 

Oh  to  go  onward,  self  forgetting. 
Willing  to  take  the  lowest  place  ; 

Oh  to  go  upward,  never  letting 

Pride  of  the  heart  my  glance  abase. 

Oh  to  become  each  day  more  lowly, 
More  of  Thine  own  blest  image  gain  ; 

Oh  to  be  made,  as  Thou  art,  holy, 
Oh  to  be  freed  from  sin's  dread  chain, 


Oh  to  be  listening  every  hour 

The  more  than  music  of  Thy  voice ; 

Feeling  its  soothing  quickening  power, 
Bidding  the  silenced  heart  rejoice  1 


174  EARLY  POEMS. 


Sunset, 

(impromptu  during  a  walk  with  e.  clay.) 

How  pleasant 't  is  at  eventide 
To  walk  with  friends  we  love ; 

And  think  and  speak  of  Him  who  died, 
And  who  now  reigns  above. 

Is  there  a  subject  half  so  sweet, 

On  which  our  thoughts  could  dwell  ? 

No,  't  is  a  theme  for  angels  meet, 
Though  we  of  it  may  tell. 

The  beauties  that  around  we  see, 

On  this  calm  lovely  eve. 
Show  forth  His  love  to  you  and  me, 

If  we  this  love  believe. 

The  sunset  paints  the  western  sky 
V/ith  colours  fair  and  bright ; 

But  we  will  raise  our  wondering  eye 
To  scenes  of  heavenly  light. 

The  clouds  that  round  their  monarch  stay 

A  light  and  radiance  gain  ; 
While  those  which  tarry  far  away 

Such  brightness  ne'er  attain. 

So  those  who,  in  this  wilderness, 

Still  near  their  Master  stay, 
The  beauty  gain  of  holiness. 

Of  heaven's  own  light  a  ray. 


THE  SPIRITS  LONGINGS.  I7S 


Now,  soon  the  darkening  shades  of  night 
Will  o'er  these  scenes  be  thrown, 

The  sun's  last  ray  of  golden  light 
Will  far  away  be  flown. 

Then  hasten  to  our  heavenly  home, 
That  land  more  fair,  more  bright ; 

Where  shades  of  darkness  never  come, 
Where  there  is  no  more  night. 


Ube  Spirit's  Xonainos. 

When  the  loveliest  flowers  are  waking, 

Whispering  thoughts  of  silent  joy, 
And  the  lark,  his  nest  forsaking, 

Carols  in  the  beaming  sky ; 
When  her  mantle  Beauty  flings 
Over  Nature's  gladsome  things  : 
Yet  the  soul  it  doth  not  fill, 
Something  seeks  it  fairer  still. 

When  the  crystal  streams  are  glancing 

From  the  Fount  of  Poesy, 
Mingling  with  the  all-entrancing 

Sweetness  of  calm  melody  : 
When  the  spirit,  thirsting  long, 
Feels  the  wondrous  power  of  song. 
Yet  it  yearns  for  something  more. 
Something  which  may  be  in  store. 

When  the  heart  is  warmly  glowing 
Toward  the  dearest  ones  around, 


176  EARLY  POEMS. 

And,  with  joyous  love  o'erflowing, 

Fancies  happiness  is  found, 
Softly  hushing  noisy  mirth, 
Finds  the  purest  joy  of  earth ; 
Even  then  it  must  aspire. 
Ever  seeking  something  higher. 

When  the  weary  spirit  turneth 

From  the  dark  low  earth  away, 
And  with  contrite  sorrow  mourneth 

Till  the  shadows  flee  away  ; 
When  the  soul  on  Jesus'  breast 
Sinks  in  lowly  peaceful  rest, — 
Then  its  yearnings  all  are  stilled, 
And  with  perfect  bliss  't  is  filled. 


Xlbe  ®ID  ant)  tbe  IRew  Bartb. 

When  the  first  bright  dawn  of  a  Sabbath-day 
O'er  the  purple  hills  of  the  far  east  gleamed  ; 
When  in  pristine  loveliness  Eden  lay. 
And  the  fairest  spot  of  the  fair  earth  seemed ; 
When  the  first  sweet  lay  of  the  nightingale 
.Rang  in  liquid  music  o'er  every  hill. 
And  the  verdant  waste  of  the  new-formed  vale 
Heard  the  first  wild  song  of  the  sparkling  rill ; 
When  in  first  fresh  beauty  the  young  flowers  stood. 
And  their  leafy  banners  the  trees  unfurled ; 
When  the  Maker  of  all  called  it  '  very  good,' — 
I  would  I  had  seen  our  beautiful  world. 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  EARTH.  177 

When  the  dwelling  bright  of  the  Shining  Ones, 
The  abode  of  Him  who  is  Love  and  Light, 
Heard  the  joyous  song  of  God's  holy  sons, 
As  the  new-born  world  met  their  ravished  sight ; 
When   the   morning  stars  caught   the   cadence 

sweet, 
And  took  up  the  strain  of  the  heavenly  song. 
And  each  bright  one  joined  from  his  glorious 

seat 
In  the  chorus  swelling  so  loud  arid  long ; 
Praising  Him  who  made  by  His  mighty  Word 
The  new  earth  in  beauty  and  purity  ; — 
I  would  that  the  echo  I  might  have  heard 
Of  their  thrilling  celestial  melody. 

When  in  Eden's  lovely  and  thornless  bowers, 
All  unstained  by  sin,  our  first  parents  dwelt ; 
When  on  wings  of  joy  flew  their  sunny  hours, 
And  the  touch  of  sorrow  they  had  not  felt ; 
When  their  sole  companions  were  seraphs  bright, 
And  their  sweetest  music  the  angels'  lays ; 
When  a  gleam  of  heaven's  own  glorious  light 
Might  often  meet  their  enraptured  gaze ; 
When  while  dwelling  here  Love  was  still  their 

guide, 
And  the  dreaded  angel.  Death,  did  not  wait 
To  unlock  for  them  heaven's  portals  wide ; — 
I  would  I  had  shared  in  their  blissful  state. 

But  the  time  will  come,  when,  all  purified 
From  its  cv'ry  spot  by  a  fiery  Hood, 

M 


178  EARLY  POEMS. 


Our  earth  shall  hear,  as  recedes  the  tide 
Once  again  the  words,  '  It  is  very  good.' 
When  the  song  of  the  stars  shall  be  heard  again 
O'er  the'ir  sister  joying,  the  holy  earth  ; 
When  the  purest  love  shall  for  ever  reign, 
And  immortal  joys  have  their  blissful  birth  ; 
There  shall  be  no  sorrow  and  no  more  sin, 
Pain  shall  pass  away.  Death  himself  shall  die, 
To  that  fairer  Eden  may  we  go  in, 
And  entering,  dwell  there  eternally. 


XTbouabts  awalfeeneb  M  Bstlci?  Bells, 

Sweet  Astley  bells  !  your  distant  chime, 

So  tuneful,  yet  so  sad, 
Recalls  my  childhood's  earliest  time  : 

I  sigh,  and  yet  am  glad. 

My  thoughts  return,  on  swift  unsteady  wings, 
Along  the  trodden  path  whose  misty  light 
Revealed  dim  visions  of  unspoken  things, 

Passing,  yet  bright. 
Oh,  years  have  glided  by  so  fast, 
That  tv/enty-one  have  almost  past, 
And  now  those  softened  bells, 
With  wondrous  spells. 
Have  called  the  solemn  train  of  bygone  times 
Back  from  Eternity's  mysterious  chimes. 
They  come,  a  fearful  crowd. 
And  gaze  with  spectral  eyes ; 


77/(9 UGHTS  A  WAKENED  B  V  ASTLE  Y  BELLS.     1 79 

Before  this  witness  cloud 
My  spirit  silent  lies  : 
No  sound  is  there,  yet  strange  wild  echoes  thrill 
The  inmost  caverns  of  my  soul,  where  all  seemed  waste 
and  still. 

Scenes  arise  before  me 
Fairer  than  the  light, 
Visions  hover  o'er  me 

Darker  than  the  niglit ; 
While  my  spirit  haileth 

Those  with  fond  delight, 
Yet  at  these  it  quaileth, 
Shrouded  in  affright. 
For  the  past  years  press  me  closer  round, 

And  I  cannot  bear  their  gaze ; 
With  a  brazen  fetter  I  am  bound, 
While  their  deep  reproachful  voices  sound 

And  their  piercing  eyebeams  blaze. 
They  speak  of  thoughtless  words  and  wasted  hours, 

Of  hopes  forgotten,  resolutions  broken  ; 
Their  breath  recalls  once  bright,  now  faded  flowers. 

Their  tones  bring  back  the  words  which  sainted  lips 
have  spoken. 
Again  is  heard  that  spirit-wakening  bell ; 

Each  stroke  is  branding  deep  my  heavy  heart, 
Like  some  inevitable  knell, 

Saying,  '  Thou  too  must  soon  dejiart.' 
And  't  is  a  knell !     My  youth  is  past. 
That  very  chime  hath  told  me  so  ! 
This  year  hath  been  the  last,  the  last ; 
My  spring  is  gone,  I  know  ! 


l8o  EARLY  POEMS. 


The  sound  hath  melted  o'er  the  hill, 
And  all  is  still ! 
Again  the  peal  is  ringing, 
Like  angel  voices  singing, — 
'  May  there  not  be 
A  summer  yet  for  thee  ? 
Without  the  chilling  frosts  of  spring, 

Without  the  piercing  wind, 
Without  the  yet  unclothed  spray, 

These  thou  hast  left  behind  ! 
What  though  the  rainbow  fade  away  ? 

The  light  which  gave  it  birth 
Is  still  the  same  ;  and  e'en  the  cloud 

May  bless  the  thirsty  earth. 
What  though  the  blossom  fall  and  die  ? 

The  flower  is  not  the  root ; 
A  summer's  sun  may  ripen  yet 

The  Master's  pleasant  fruit. 
What  though  by  many  a  sinful  fall 

Thy  garments  be  defiled  ? 
A  Saviour's  blood  can  cleanse  them  all  ; 

Fear  not,  thou  art  His  child  ! 
Arise  !  to  follow  in  His  track, 

His  lowly  ones  to  cheer ; 
And  on  an  upward  path,  look  back 

With  every  brightening  year. 
Arise  !  and  on  thy  future  way 

His  blessing  with  thee  be. 
His  presence  be  thy  staff  and  stay 

Till  thou  His  glory  see. 
What  though  thy  heart  distrust  thy  strength  ? 

The  way  may  not  be  long, 


'  PRA  y  FOR  me:  i8i 


And  He  will  bring  thee  home  at  length 
To  learn  His  own  new  song.' 

Sweet  Astley  bells  !  your  distant  chime, 

So  tuneful,  though  so  sad, 
Speaks  of  a  holier,  happier  time  : 

I  sigh,  and  yet  am  glad. 


'pras  for  me/ 

When  the  early  morn  awaketh, 
Veiled  in  mist,  or  robed  in  fire ; 

When  the  evening  ray  forsaketh 

Golden  cloud  and  gleaming  spire, — 

Thy  request  shall  sacred  be 

In  the  shrine  of  memory, 

And  for  thee  my  prayer  shall  rise 

Far  beyond  the  silent  skies. 

When  the  Sabbath  calm  is  sleeping 
Like  a  moonbeam  everywhere ; 

When  the  solemn  feast-day  keeping, 
Upward  float  our  praise  and  prayer ; 

When  in  holy  love  and  fear 

To  our  Father  we  draw  near, — 

Many  a  winged  hope  for  thee 

To  His  ear  shall  wafted  be. 

When  we  hear  the  loud  thought-chorus. 
While  the  Old  Year's  knell  is  tolled  ; 


l82  EARLY  FOEMS. 

When  the  Future  looms  before  us, 

And  the  Past  seems  all  unrolled  j 
When  each  moment  fleeteth  by, 
Like  a  deep  mysterious  sigh, — 
Then,  oh  then,  my  heart  shall  be 
Lifted  earnestly  for  thee  : 

Lifted — that  our  God  may  lead  thee 
All  the  way  that  thou  shouldst  go. 
With  His  daily  manna  feed  thee, 

Every  needful  good  bestow  ; 
That  the  dearest  ones  to  thee 
Near  and  dear  to  Him  may  be ; 
That  His  smile  on  thee  may  rest, 
In  His  presence  calmly  blest: 

Lifted — that  our  holy  Saviour 

More  and  more  to  thee  may  show 
All  the  wondrous  grace  and  favour 

He  hath  suffered  to  bestow ; 
That  His  love  may  be  thy  shield 
In  Temptation's  battle-field ; 
And  His  sympathy  thy  light 
In  Affliction's  darkest  night : 

That  the  Comforter,  descending 

In  His  sanctifying  power, 
Peace  and  hope  and  gladness  blending, 

On  thy  waiting  soul  may  shower ; 
That  our  Triune  God  may  shed 
Every  blessing  on  thy  head. 
Till  thou  enter  in  and  see 
AU  He  hath  prepared  for  thee. 


THE  DEATH  OF  CAPTAIN  ALLAN  GARDINER.     183 

©n  tbe  2)eatb  ol  Captain  Hllan  GarMueu, 

The  First  Missionary  to  Patagonia. 

In  desolate  wild  grandeur  all  around, 

Dark  rocky  spires  are  tow'ring  to  the  sky, 
While  through  the  caverns  echoes  far  the  sound 
Of  winds,  which  o'er  Antarctic  seas  sweep  fitfully. 

The  ocean  waves  with  deep  and  hollow  tone 
Combat  the  haughty  cliffs  in  fierce  affray, 
Then  back  returning  with  a  sullen  moan, 
Sink,  till  again  they  dash,  their  warrior  spray. 

No  flowerets  spring  that  barren  land  to  cheer, 

No  waving  trees  salute  that  stormy  sky 
With  graceful  bend ;  scarce  grass  and  herbs  appear, 
Or  aught  of  greenery,  to  soothe  the  wearied  eye. 

O  who  in  such  a  dreary  clime  could  dwell  ? 

Who  would  abide  on  such  a  desert  shore  ? 
Save  the  wild  natives,  who,  our  sailors  tell. 
No  Saviour  know,  no  Deity  supreme  adore. 

But  list  awhile  !     Who  breathed  that  deep-drawn  sigh  ? 
Whence  came  it  ?     Hark  again  !     A  voice  of  prayer, 
Mingled  with  heavenly  praises,  rose  on  high, 
As  with  sweet  incense  hallowing  the  chilly  air. 

Alone,  no  earthly  friend  or  brother  near, 

A  human  form  lies  on  that  bleak,  bleak  strand ; 


1 84  EARLY  POEMS. 

Sunken  his  eye,  and  wan  his  cheeks  appear, 
For  famine  pale  has  laid  on  him  her  withering  hand. 

Nor  food  nor  water  six  long  weary  days 

Have  passed  those  palHd  lips,  yet  not  a  plaint 
From  him  may  fall,  but  notes  of  joyful  praise  ; 
Sustained  with  bread  of  life  his  soul  can  never  faint : 


For  Jesus  whispers  comfort  to  his  soul. 

And  smooths  his  pillow,  though  so  cold  and  hard  j 
He  hears  no  wind,  he  sees  no  surges  roll. 
He  only  hears  his  Master,  sees  his  bright  reward; 

Another  sigh,  his  happy  soul  hath  flown 

From  its  frail  dwelling,  where  so  long  it  lay 
Pinioned,  his  painful  toils  at  length  are  done. 
And  angels  welcome  him  to  dwell  in  endless  day. 

Wherefore  left  he  his  lovely  native  isle  ? 

Wherefore  his  life,  his  all  thus  sacrifice  ? 
Did  he  for  pleasure  undertake  such  toil  ? 
\Vas  it  for  sordid  gold,  which  men  so  highly  prize  ? 

No  !  higher  motives  filled  that  noble  breast ; 

He  sacrified  his  all  from  Christian  love, 
He  went  to  tell  of  peace  and  heavenly  rest, 
To  teach  those  heathen  of  a  gracious  God  above. 

And  shall  we  blame  him,  who  devoted  thus 

To  his  great  Master's  name  his  freshest  days  ? 
Despise  that  bright  example  left  to  us. 
And  on  his  memory  strive  to  cast  a  gloomy  haze  ? 


•  THANK  GOD?  185 


Shame,  shame  on  those  Avho  dare  aspersions  fling 

On  Gardiner's  honoured  name  !     They  know  it's  true 
Right  well  he  served  his  Saviour  and  his  King ; 
And  they  who  love  the  Master,  love  the  servant  too. 

But  now  he  rests  in  peace,  his  labours  past ; 

Nothing  can  vex  that  noble  spirit  more, 
For  he  hath  gained  his  distant  port  at  last. 
The  waves  have  only  carried  him  to  that  blest  shore. 

No  laurels  bloomed  on  that  pale  dying  brow, 

No  earthly  honours  clustered  round  that  bed  \ 
But  victor-wreaths  of  life  encircle  now, 
And  a  bright  crown  adorns,  that  mission  martyr's  head  ! 


*Ubanft  Gob.' 

•'  For  nine-and-twenty  years  the  rainbow-pinioned  Spring 
Hath  kissed  the  young  lips  of  her  smiling  flowers  ; 

For  nine-and-twenty  years  hath  Autumn's  golden  ring 
Encircled  the  fair  fruit  in  all  her  bowers. 

'  Yes,  nine-and-twenty  years  have  darkly,  sadly  passed 
Since  last  the  light  of  heaven  't  was  mine  to  see  ; 

All  aid  has  failed  !  Thy  skill  my  only  hope,  my  last ! 
Good  Hofrath,  can  there  yet  be  hope  for  me  ? ' 

Say,  hath  a  passing  angel  left  in  that  kind  face 
The  mirrored  image  of  his  own  sweet  smile, 

To  the  great  good  man's  reverend  beauty  adding  grace  ? 
It  may  be  so  !  listen  !  he  speaks  awhile. 


1 86  EARLY  POEMS. 


'  There  is  yet  hope  for  thee  !     If  God  vouchsafe  to  bless, 
Thou  yet  again  may'st  see  the  blessed  summer  Hght ! 

Though  there 's  a  thorny  hedge  of  pain,  yet  may  access 
Be  gained  thee  to  thy  Eden  of  glad  sight ! ' 

The  time  is  come,  the  operation  o'er ;  yet  he  must  wait 
One  moment  longer,  with  unopened  eye, — 

The  Hofrath  writes  (oh,  what  will  be  his  fate  ?), 

Now,  blind  one,  read  ! — '  Thank  God  ! '  his  joyous  cry. 

What  words  may  tell  the  unknown  joy  of  that  glad  heart  ? 

Words  cannot  paint  a  bliss  so  deeply  felt ; 
Like  flakes  of  spring-snow,  like  the  lightning's  passing  dart, 

Half-formed  in  glowing  happiness  they  melt. 

'  Thank  God  ! '  Yes,  after  nine-and-twenty  years  of  night, 
At  length  awakes  for  him  the  radiant  day, 

And  the  first  word  which  he  doth  read  with  glad  new  sight 
Is  '  Thank  God ! '     Thanks,  praise  to  Him  alway ! 

E'en  had  the  first-seen  sunbeam  not  upborne  his  mind 
In  praise  to  Him  who  said,  '  Let  there  be  light,'  ^ 

The  Hofrath's  beautiful  device  must  surely  find 
A  deep  response,  and  heavenward  turn  his  sight. 

It  was  a  lovely  thought,  to  place  the  sweet-toned  lyre 

At  once  within  the  joy-unnerved  hand ; 
May  blessings  rest  on  him,  and  may  the  angel  choir 

Around  him  breathe  the  songs  of  their  bright  Fatherland. 

1  An  incident  at  Grafrath,  related  by  a  patient  of  the  skilful  oculist, 
Dr.  de  Leuve. 


THE  MAIDENS  OF  ENGLAND.  187 


XTbe  /lDai&ens  of  Bnolanb 

ON   THE   PRESENTATION   OF   A   BIBLE  TO   THEIR   PRINCESS   ROYAL. 

Ere  the  pathless  ocean  waters 

Bear  thee  far  from  England's  shore, 

Come  we,  England's  youthful  daughters, 
Warmly  greeting  thee  once  more. 

Rarest  jewels,  lustre  flinging, 

Grace  thy  royal  diadem ; 
Yet  we  come,  an  offering  bringing 

Richer  than  its  richest  gem. 

While  with  prayerful  love  unspoken, 
Princess  !  glows  each  maiden  heart, 

Deign  to  take  this  sacred  token, 
Brightest  lamp  and  surest  chart. 

May  its  holy  precepts  guide  thee 
In  each  hour  of  joy  or  sadness ; 

Yet  may  he  who  stands  beside  thee 
Share  with  thee  unfading  gladness. 

Ever  on  thy  pathway  shining, 
Living  stars  'mid  earthly  night. 

May  its  peace  and  grace  entwining 
Gird  thee  with  a  robe  of  light. 

Rose  of  England !  fragrance  breathing. 

To  thy  far  new  home  depart. 
Round  thy  early  bloom  cnwreathing 

All  the  love  of  England's  heart. 


1 88  EARLY  POEMS. 


Be  thy  gladness  ever  vernal 

'Mid  the  wintry  scenes  below, 
Till  a  crown  of  life  eternal 

Gleams  upon  thy  royal  brow  ! 

Father,  be  Thou  ever  near  her  ! 

Saviour,  fill  her  with  Thy  love  ! 
Let  Thy  constant  presence  cheer  her, 

Joy-imparting  Holy  Dove  ! 

*lRo,  not  a  Star.' 

(ANSWER   TO   A   KEMARK.) 

No,  not  a  siar  I  that  is  a  name  too  beautiful  and  bright 
For  any  earthly  lay  to  wear,  in  this  our  lingering  night ; 
But  'mid  the  broken  waters  of  our  ever-restless  thought, 
My  verse  should   be  an   answering   gleam   from   higher 

radiance  caught ; 
That  when  through  dark  o'erarching  boughs  of  sorrow, 

doubt,  and  sin, 
The  glorious  Star  of  Bethlehem  upon  the  flood  looks  in, 
Its  tiny  trembling  ray  may  bid  some  downcast  vision  turn 
To  that  enkindling  Light,  for  which  all  earthly  shadows 

yearn. 

No,  not  a  rainbow  !  though  upon  the  tearful  cloud  it  trace 
Sweet  messages  of  sparing  love,  of  changeless  truth  and 

grace. 
The  daughter  of  its  meekest  hue  I  would  my  verse  might 

prove, 
The  leaf-veiled  violet,  that  wins  so  many  a  childish  love ; 


NO,  NOT  A  STAR.'  189 


For  little  hearts  no  wounding  thorn  or  poison-cup  to  bear, 

But  pleasant  fragrance  and  delight  to  greet  them 
everywhere. 

I  grieve  not  though  each  blossom  fall  with  swiftly  ripen- 
ing spring, 

If  o'er  one  eager  face  a  smile  of  gladness  It  may  fling. 

Mo,  not  a.  fountain  !  though  it  seem  tr  .pread  white  angel- 
wings, 

And  soar  aloft  in  spirit  guisc,  no  gentle  help  it  brings ; 

It  lives  for  its  own  loveliness  alone,  then  seeks  once  more 

The  chilly  bosom  of  the  rock  it  slumbered  in  before. 

Oh,  be  my  verse  a  hidden  stream  which  silently  may  flow 

Where  drooping  leaf  and  thirsty  flower  in  lonely  valleys 
grow ; 

Till,  blending  with  the  broad  bright  stream  of  sanctified 
endeavour, 

God's  glory  be  its  ocean  home,  the  end  it  seeketh  ever  1 


Miscellaneous  Poems, 


THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  SEA.  193 


Ube  (Slueeti  of  tbe  Sea. 

O  Sea,  calm,  sleeping  Sea  !  awake,  and  tell 
What  o'er  thee  hath  cast  this  soothing  spell  ? 

•  Brightly  the  young  moon  is  beaming 

From  her  purple  throne, 
On  my  waveless  breast  is  gleaming 

Radiance  all  her  own. 
I  have  hushed  each  booming  billow. 

For  her  peerless  royal  brow 

Resteth  on  my  glistening  pillow 

Like  a  sleeping  angel  now.' 

O  Sea,  glad  and  playful  Sea !  what  meanest  thou  ? 
What  do  thy  white-winged  wavelets  carol  now  ? 

'  Merrily  they  all  are  singing, 

For  with  golden  hand, 
Silver  fetters  she  is  flinging 

O'er  my  fairy  band. 
'Neath  them  blithely  are  they  dancing, 

And  her  jewels  rare  and  bright 
In  their  waving  crests  are  glancing — 
Liquid  diamonds  of  light.' 

O  Sea,  wild,  raging  Sea  !  what  horrors  dire 
pave  raised  thy  maniac  wrath,  thy  frenzied  ire  ? 


194  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

'  Seest  thou  not  the  lightning  flashing 

From  yon  lurid  cloud  ? 
Fiercely  are  my  billows  dashing, 

Foaming,  roaring  loud, 
For  the  frowning  sky  is  veiling 

Darkly  o'er  their  beauteous  Queen  : 
Fury  mingleth  with  their  wailing 
Till  her  face  again  be  seen.' 


ZTwo  ipotnts  ot  Diew* 

Terrible  waves  !     In  fierce,  unearthly  chorus 

Ye  threaten  the  frail  vessel  to  entomb ; 
Still  darker  than  the  fearful  storm-cloud  o'er  us, 

Your  yawning  gulfs  of  death-portending  gloom. 

Beautiful  waves  !     In  joyous  freedom  dancing, 
Ye  burst  like  living  things  upon  the  strand ; 

Your  snowy  crests  in  the  pure  sunlight  glancing. 
Flash  like  a  vision  bright  of  fairy-land. 

Oh,  such  are  trials  !     All  Earth's  sons  and  daughters 

Feel  in  them  awful  messengers  of  ire, 
More  dark  and  dread  than  ocean's  troubled  waters  \ 

Death,  and  not  Life,  their  horrors  aye  inspire. 

Not  so  in  Heaven  !     On  that  shore  of  gladness 
Each  past  grief  seems  a  blessing,  and  each  pain 

Hath  lost  the  midnight  hues  of  earthborn  sadness, — 
The  once-dark  waves  gleam  bright — each  loss  appears 
a  gain. 


EVENING  SONG.  195 


(from  the   GERMAN.) 

The  dawning  day  is  beaming, 

The  long  night  flies  away, 
The  gates  of  light  are  gleaming, 

Oped  by  the  rosy  ray. 
Thou  beauteous  light  of  earth,  all  hail ! 
Let  not  thy  cheering  presence  fail ! 

Above  all  goodness  dwelleth ; 

Where,  at  the  fount  of  light, 
The  angel-chorus  swelleth, 

There  it  is  ever  bright ! 
Though  here  in  darksome  vale  we  stray, 
'T  is  lighted  by  that  glorious  ray. 

Thy  light  and  blessing  sending 
From  Thine  own  radiant  side, 

While  here  our  dark  paths  wending, 
Be  Thou  our  guard  and  guide. 

Lift  up  the  brightness  of  Thy  face  ! 

Forsake  not,  Lord,  Thy  chosen  race ! 

lEvening  Soxkq. 

(from  the  GERMAN.) 

Evening  now  is  closing 

Over  vale  and  hill ; 
Peacefully  reposing, 


o 


All  the  world  is  still, 


196  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

But  the  brooklet,  pouring 
Where  the  tall  rocks  close, 

With  its  restless  roaring 
Ever,  ever  flows. 


Evening  is  not  bringing 
To  its  waters  peace, 

And  no  sweet  bell  ringing, 
Bids  its  turmoil  cease. 


In  its  restless  striving 
I  behold  my  own, — 

True  repose  deriving 
From  my  God  alone. 


peace, 

A  SHOUT  of  gladness  is  heard  afar ; 

They  are  greeting  a  glowing  triumphal  car ; 

And  the  nations  bend  to  the  gentle  sway 

Of  white-robed  Peace,  with  her  olive  spray. 

She  is  come !  and  the  tongues  of  ten  thousand  bells 

Re-echo  the  shout  through  our  island  dells. 

She  is  come !     Like  a  star  from  the  darksome  wave 
Arising,  o'er  many  an  unknown  grave ; 
Like  the  moon,  when  her  sad  eclipse  is  past, 
Her  silver  fetters  o'er  earth  doth  cast ; 
Like  the  sun,  dispelling  with  ardent  might 
The  gloomy  spectres  and  shades  of  night. 


PEACE. 

She  is  come  !     Like  the  falHng  of  cool,  sweet  dew, 
Like  a  buried  flower  which  Spring  doth  renew ; 
Like  the  burst  of  a  rivulet's  laughing  waves 
From  the  death-like  glacier's  awful  caves ; 
As  a  pearl  gleams  forth  from  its  dark,  rough  shell, 
She  is  come !  and  her  song  is  War's  funeral  knell. 

She  is  come  !  with  her  lyre  all  newly  strung 

For  the  lay  which  the  Bethlehem  angels  sung  : 

Glad  harmony  dwells  in  its  every  tone. 

Triumphantly  ruling  the  song  alone ; 

For  discord  hath  melted  before  her  sway. 

Like  as  snow-wreath  yields  to  the  warm  spring  ray. 

She  is  come  !  with  her  diamond-gleaming  zone, 
To  bind  Earth's  children  before  her  throne, 
And  her  flowing  mantle,  which  every  trace 
Of  War's  wild  fury  shall  soon  erase ; 
Her  golden  crown  is  returning  wealth, 
And  her  balmy  breath  is  the  nation's  health. 

She  is  come !  with  blessings  for  each  and  all. 
For  the  rich  and  poor,  for  the  great  and  small. 
For  our  own  loved  Queen,  in  her  royal  chair, 
For  the  poor  man  toiling  for  daily  fare, 
For  the  senate-hall,  for  the  busy  mart. 
For  the  striving  mind,  for  the  loving  heart. 

She  is  come  !     As  an  angel  from  Heaven  above, 
With  her  smile  of  joy  and  her  look  of  love; 
Each  grim  foreboding  to  chase  away, 
Each  tenderly  anxious  fear  to  allay ; 


197 


198  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

To  bid  the  death-thunder  of  War  to  cease  : 
Then  hail  to  the  long,  long  sighed  for  Peace ! 

She  is  come !     But  e'en  'neath  her  radiant  sway 
There  are  those  who  sorrow  each  weary  day ; 
Who  weep  for  the  noble,  the  loved,  the  brave, 
That  are  resting  now  in  an  Eastern  grave : 
Then  oh !  for  them  let  our  prayers  ascend. 
To  the  orphan's  Father,  the  widow's  Friend. 

She  is  come  !     Then  our  anthems  shall  loudly  rise 

To  the  gracious  Ruler  of  earth  and  skies. 

Who  hath  poured  on  us  from  His  chalice  of  love 

A  sparkling  drop  of  the  Peace  above ; 

And  hath  stilled  the  dark  billows  of  War  with  a  word ! 

Yes  !  our  grateful  songs  shall  be  widely  heard. 

She  is  come  !     But  oh  !  she  may  pass  away, 
Like  the  fleeting  brightness  of  April's  ray. 
And  War's  fierce  tempest  arise  once  more ! 
Then  in  faith  let  us  '  onward  and  upward '  soar, 
Where  the  many  jarrings  of  earth  shall  cease, 
In  the  glorious  reign  of  the  Prince  of  Peace. 


jfraginents* 

I  WANDER  in  fancy  far  away 

To  scenes  of  many  a  summer  day, 

Beautiful  even  now 
In  the  pale  and  wan  November  ray, 
When  Nature  lays  her  cooling  hand 
On  the  hot  and  aching  brow, 


FRAGMENTS.  199 


And  quiets  the  throbbing  heart  with  a  touch, 

And  whispers  much, 
In  her  own  dear  musical  tone, 

Of  rest  and  calm, 

And  peace  and  balm. 
Till  the  heart  is  tuned  to  her  own  sweet  psalm. 

And  feels  no  more  alone. 
Oh,  the  healing  she  has  brought ! 
Oh,  the  cures  that  she  has  wrought ! 
Only  engage  her  as  nurse  and  physician. 
And  let  her  fulfil  her  miraculous  mission, 

And  you  will  find 

That  she  leaves  behind 
All  the  wonders  of  homoeopathy. 

Oh !  I  could  tell, 

For  I  know  so  well, 
How  the  unstrung  nerves  are  tuned  again, 
And  the  load  rolls  off  from  the  tired  brain, 
And  strength  comes  back  to  the  languid  frame, 
And  existence  hardly  seems  the  same. 
Her  process  is  surer  far  and  shorter, 
When  out  of  reach  of  bricks  and  mortar  ! 
When  all  her  gentle  remedies 
Are  brought  to  bear,  till  the  work  is  done. 

Oh  !  give  to  me 
A  pierless  and  paradeless  sea. 
With  a  shore  as  God  made  it,  grand  and  free, 
And  not  a  mere  triumph  of  masonry ; 

Where  the  thundering  shocks, 

And  the  Titan  play 

Of  the  wild  white  spray, 


20O  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


Which  dies  on  the  shingly  beach, 

With  a  golden  reach 

Of  fair  smooth  sand, 

Laid  by  the  hand 

Of  the  lulling  tide, 
Inviting  many  a  stroll  or  ride. 

Oh,  for  the  pure  and  lovely  shell ! 

Oh,  for  the  crimson  frond  ! 
Witness  of  all  fair  forms  that  dwell 
In  the  marvellous  deep  below  and  beyond, 

Where  living  flowers 

From  mermaids'  bowers, 

Many  a  living  star, 

]\Iany  a  crystal,  many  a  spar. 
Where  Nature  distributes  all  her  treasures, 
And  all  her  special  sea-side  pleasures. 


Oh  !  give  me  the  rocks  of  Ilfracombe, 
With  their  witchery  of  gleam  and  gloom, 
With  the  crystal  pools  in  the  tide-swept  cave, 
Where  myriad  fairy  forests  wave. 
And  the  delicate  fringes  of  crimson  and  gr^cn, 
Purple  and  amber,  ruby  and  rose, 
With  snowy  gleaming  shells  betvv-een, 
And  marvellous  forms  of  life  are  seen. 
While  the  musical  tide  still  ebbs  and  flov/s ; 
Where  not  a  step  but  brings  to  view 
Something  exquisite,  something  rare. 
Something  marvellously  fair, 

Always  beautiful,  always  new. 


FRAGMENTS.  201 


My  heart  is  wandering  still 

At  its  strange  and  wayward  will. 

Oh,  for  the  Glen  of  the  Waters'  Meet, 

Where  the  merry  Lyn  leaps  down 

To  that  loveliest  vale  below, 

And  hastens  to  join  the  Channel  flow  ; 
Where  the  Lynton  cliffs,  without  a  frown, 

Majestically  crown 
This  mingling  of  sublime  and  sweet. 
And  oh,  for  the  mighty  roar 
At  the  foot  of  Penmaenmawr  ! 

Or  an  autumn  storm 

On  the  Greater  Orme, 
Where  the  giant  breakers  hurl  their  spray 

At  the  mountain's  mighty  breast, 
And  the  wild  wind,  mingling  in  the  fray, 
Seizes  and  whirls  it  high  and  away 

Over  the  proud  rock's  crest ; 

While  the  maddened  waves 

Rush  into  the  caves 
With  thunder  and  growl,  and  rush  back  again, 
As  if  the  assault  had  been  all  in  vain, 
But  only  to  gather  in  awful  might 
For  a  tenfold  struggle  of  fiercer  fight. 
Who  would  have  time  for  a  thought  of  care. 
Or  a  fit  of  the  blues,  if  standing  there  ! 

Away  !  away  !  to  the  bracing  North, 

To  the  grand  old  seas 

Of  the  Hebrides, 
To  the  sunny  Clyde,  or  the  silver  Forth, 
Purple  heather  above,  and  shadowy  loch  below, 
Golden  glory  of  furze,  and  a  far-off  wealth  of  snow, 


202  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Violet  peaks  afar,  and  dark  green  pines  anear, 
And  long  bright  evenings  so  soft  and  clear, 
And  concert  halls  of  birdies  sweet 
Trill  and  carol  so  bhthely  meet ; — 
Treasures  untold,  their  myriad  gleam 
Is  far  beyond  a  poet's  dream. 


XCbe  MandedUG  Sunbeanu 

It  wandered  far,  that  Sunbeam  bright, 

To  mortal  eyes  of  purest  light, — 

And,  gladdening  all  o'er  whom  it  beamed, 

A  seraph's  smile  of  joy  it  seemed. 

But  farther  yet  it  longed  to  soar, 

Where  earthly  darkness  dims  no  more. 

To  visit  that  abode  of  light. 

Too  dazzling  far  for  human  sight. 

On  glowing  wing  through  space  it  flew, 

Till  Heaven's  own  glory  was  in  view. 

And  through  the  pearly  gates  it  passed, 

Which  only  light,  not  shadow,  cast. 

Then  burst  upon  the  wondering  Ray 

The  radiance  fair  of  perfect  Day. 

A  beauteous  seraph  passed  along. 

The  Sunbeam  heard  the  thrilling  song  ; 

But  quickly  ceased  the  gladsome  lay. 

The  swift-winged  seraph  fled  away  ! 

What  might  that  haste,  that  strange  fear  mean  r 

What  dreaded  spectre  had  he  seen  ? 

'  An  earth-born  cloud  of  darksome  Night 

Hath  dared  to  scale  the  walls  of  light ; 


r 

MA  V  DA  Y.  203 


O'er  yon  fair  hill  a  shade  is  thrown, 

Which  only  in  those  worlds  is  known 

Which  far  from  Heaven's  pure  boundaries  lie, 

To  Chaos'  gloomy  realm  more  nigh.' 

Thus  spake  he  to  a  marvelling  throng, 

But  gazed  not  on  the  Sunbeam  long  : 

An  angel's  eye  was  far  too  pure 

E'en  that  fair  Sunray  to  endure. 

Nor  long  remained  it  there  to  tell 

In  what  strange  darkness  Earth  must  dwell, 

Too  gross  with  beams  of  heavenly  birth 

To  mix,  yet  to  return  to  Earth 

Too  glorious,  since  its  joyful  gaze 

Had  met  those  all-effulgent  rays. 

Half  way  to  Earth  it  flew,  and  there, 

While  yet  its  wing  Heaven's  radiance  bare, 

It  rested,  and  became  a  star. 

To  tell  Earth's  children  from  afar. 

How  infinitely  pure  and  bright 

Is  Heaven's  eternal  shadeless  light. 

O  HASTE,  O  haste  to  the  fields  away  ! 

For  dawneth  now  the  month  of  May ; 
O  leave  the  cit/s  crowded  street, 

And  haste  ye  now  sweet  May  to  greet. 

For  May  is  come  on  fairy  wings, 

And  thousand  beauties  with  her  brings  ; 

The  fairest  month  of  all  the  year. 
Oh,  well  can  she  the  sad  heart  cheer. 


204  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Nature  her  jewelry  displays, 

Unfolds  her  gems  to  meet  our  gaze ; 

Bright  leaves  and  buds  of  emerald  hue, 
Forget-me-nots  of  sapphire  blue. 

The  pearly  lily's  drooping  bells, 
Listen  !  a  tale  it  sweetly  tells  : 

'  If  God  so  clothe  the  lilies  fair, 

Much  more  may  ye  trust  in  His  care.' 

The  turquoise  gentianella  bright, 
The  shining  king-cup's  golden  light, 

Carnation's  ruby  hues  behold, 
And  silvery  daisy  set  with  gold. 

Of  these  we'll  twine  a  garland  gay, 
Meet  for  the  brow  of  beauteous  May ; 

And  see,  they  gain  a  brighter  hue 
By  glittering  drops  of  diainond  dew. 

Now  hark !  what  sound  so  sweetly  floats 
Upon  the  breeze  ?     The  cuckoo's  notes  ! 

How  far  they  come  to  welcome  May, 
And  pour  for  us  the  simple  lay  ! 

jforest  IDolces. 

The  forest  hath  its  voices. 
Whose  sweetness  aye  rejoices, 
-^  Or  soothes  the  spirit  wondrously ; 

Borne  on  their  leafy  wings, 
They  tell  of  quiet  things 
And  mingle  in  strange  harmony. 


THE  SHOWER.  205 


There  is  a  murmuring  song, 

A  cadence  soft  and  long, 
Evoking  dreams  of  still  delight ; 

There  is  a  clarion  note, 

Whose  blithesome  echoes  float. 
Chasing  the  darkling  spells  of  grief  and  night. 

There  is  a  whispering  sound 

Within  the  forest-bound, 
Telling  the  heart  of  things  unseen ; 

That  nameless  holy  thrill 

Passeth  o'er  vale  and  hill 
And  through  the  dark  and  lone  ravine. 

It  is  a  harp  sublime 

With  ever-varying  chime. 
Awakening  feelings  ever  new ; 

For,  tuned  by  Him  who  made 

The  all-harmonious  shade, 
Each  forest-voice  is  sweet  and  true. 


Ube  Sbovver. 

On  every  budding  leaf  and  flower, 

The  sweet,  soft  rain  of  spring 
Comes  down  in  a  soft  and  gentle  shower, 

Like  a  whispering  angel-wing. 

The  shower  hath  bow'd  the  proud  red  rose 

With  many  a  fragrant  tear, 
It  hath  wakened  the  harebell's  long  repose, 

The  wanderer  now  to  cheer. 


2o6  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

It  hath  given  the  woodbine  strength  to  cling 
To  the  strong  elm's  rugged  bough ; 

And  the  wakeful  pimpernel  folds  its  wing, 
And  quietly  slumbers  now. 

It  hath  watered  the  seeds  in  their  cold  dark  bed. 
And  they  burst  through  the  prisoning  clay. 

To  the  lingering  buds  it  hath  gently  said, 
'  Unfold  to  the  bright  sun-ray.' 

Among  the  leaves  of  the  forest-tree 

Its  gentle  footsteps  go, 
And  they  murmur  thanks  so  pleasantly 

In  an  anthem  soft  and  low. 


Showers  there  are  for  the  thirsty  soul, 

A  sweet  and  refreshing  dew, 
The  Spirit  who  makes  the  wounded  whole, 

And  the  evil  heart  makes  new. 

He  will  teach  the  trembling  one  to  cling 

To  an  Arm  of  love  and  might ; 
And  the  earth-stained  soul  'neath  His  holy  wing 

Shall  again  be  pure  and  white. 

The  weary  heart  with  its  wild  unrest 

He  can  hush  to  a  trustful  calm ; 
To  the  spirit  crushed  and  sorely  pressed 

He  comes  with  His  healing  balm. 


TINY  TOKENS.  207 


He  comes  to  the  soul  in  its  sin-wrought  tomb, 
And  rent  are  the  chains  of  death  ! 

Then  His  own  sweet  graces  awake  and  bloom 
Beneath  His  living  breath. 

Yes !  the  Spirit  shall  teach  the  heart  to  sing, 
And  shall  tune  its  long  silent  lyre, 

And  He  who  shall  meeten  it  praise  to  bring 
In  the  sinless,  white-robed  choir. 

Come  then,  O  Spirit,  as  once  of  yore, 
Come  in  Thy  quickening  might ! 

Come,  on  Thy  waiting  Church  to  pour 
Thy  life,  Thy  grace,  Thy  light. 


ZXXi'q  XToFjens. 


The  murmur  of  a  waterfall 

A  mile  away, 
The  rustle  when  a  robin  lights 

Upon  a  spray, 
The  lapping  of  a  lowland  stream 

On  dipping  boughs. 
The  sound  of  grazing  from  a  herd 

Of  gentle  cows, 
The  echo  from  a  wooded  hill 

Of  cuckoo's  call, 
The  quiver  through  the  meadow  grass 

At  evening  fall : — 


2o8  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


Too  subtle  are  these  harmonies 

For  pen  and  rule, 
Such  music  is  not  understood 

By  any  school : 
But  when  the  brain  is  overwrought, 

It  hath  a  spell. 
Beyond  all  human  skill  and  power, 

To  make  it  well. 


II. 


The  memory  of  a  kindly  word 

For  long  gone  by, 
The  fragrance  of  a  fading  flower 

Sent  lovingly. 
The  gleaming  of  a  sudden  smile 

Or  sudden  tear. 
The  warmer  pressure  of  the  hand, 

The  tone  of  cheer, 
The  hush  that  means  '  I  cannot  speak, 

But  I  have  heard  ! ' 
The  note  that  only  bears  a  verse 

From  God's  own  Word  : — 
Such  tiny  things  we  hardly  count 

As  ministry ; 
The  givers  deeming  they  have  shown 

Scant  sympathy : 
But  when  the  heart  is  everwrought, 

Oh,  who  can  tell 
The  power  of  such  tiny  things 

To  make  it  well ! 


APRIL.  20$ 


Bpril. 

O   THE    wealth   of  pearly   blossom,    O   the    woodlaad's 

emerald  gleam  ! 
O   the    welcome,    welcome    sunshine   on   the    diamond- 
sparkling  stream  ! 
O  the  carol  from  the  hawthorn  and  the  trill  from  dazzling 

blue! 
O  the  glory  of  the  spring-time,  making  all  things  bright 
and  new ! 

O  the  rosy  eve's  surrender 
To  the  Easter  moonlight  tender  ! 
O  the  early  morning  splendour. 
Fresh  and  fragrant,  cool  and  clear, 
In  the  rising  of  the  year ! 
O  the  gladness  of  the  children  after  all  the  dismal  days, 
In  the  freedom  and  the  beauty  and  the  heart-rejoicing 

rays! 
Do  we  chill  the  gleeful  spirit,  check  the  pulses  bounding 

fast. 
By  the  mournful  doubt  suggested  :  '  Ah,  but,  darling,  will 
it  last  V 

Though  we  know  there  may  be  tempests,  and  we  know 

there  will  be  showers, 
Yet  we  know  they  only  hasten  summer's  richer  crown  of 

flowers. 
Blossom  leads  to  golden  fruitage,  bursting  bud  lo  foliage 

soon; 
April's   pleasant  gleam  shall  strengthen  to  the   glorious 

glow  of  June. 

o 


\M 


2IO  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

April  leads  to  joyous  May-time, 
With  its  ever-lengthening  day-time  : 
This  again  to  joyous  hay-time, 
When  the  harvest-home  is  near, 
In  the  zenith  of  the  year. 
So  we  only  tell  the  children  of  the  sunnier  days  in  store, 
Of  the  treasures  and  the  beauties  that  shall  open  more 

and  more. 
So  the  silver  carol  rises,  for  the  winter-time  is  past ! 
When  the  summer  days  are  coming,  need  we  ask  if  spring 
shall  last  ? 


O  the  gladness  of  the  spirit,   when  the  true  and  Only 

Light 
Pours  in  radiant  resplendence,  making  all  things  new  and 

bright ! 
When  the  love  of  Jesus  shineth  in  its  overcoming  power. 
When  the  secret  sweet  communion  hallows  every  passing 
hour, 

O  the  calm  and  happy  resting, 
Free  from  every  fear  molesting ! 
O  the  Christ-victorious  breasting 
Of  the  tempter's  varied  art. 
In  the  spring-time  of  the  heart ! 
O   the   freedom   and   the   fervour   after   all  the  faithless 

days  ! 
O  the  ever-new  thanksgiving  and  the  ever-flowing  praise ! 
Shall  we   tempt   the  gaze   from   Jesus,  and   a   doubting 

shadow  cast, 
Satan's  own  dark  word  suggesting  by  the  whisper  '  "  If^  it 
last '  ? 


THE  SONG  OF  A  SUMMER  STREAM.  211 

Though  we  know  there  must  be  trials  and  there  will  be 

tears  below, 
Yet  we  know  His  glorious  purpose,  and  His  promises  we 

know ! 
Only  ask  —  'What  saith  the  Master?' and  believe  His 

word  alone, 
That  '  from  glory  unto  glory '  He  shall  lead,  shall  change 
His  own. 

Ever  more  and  more  bestowing, 
Love  and  joy  in  riper  glowing. 
Faith  increasing,  graces  growing — 
Such  His  promises  to  you  ! 
He  is  faithful,  He  is  true  ! 
Each  Amen  becomes  an  anthem,  for  we  know  He  will 

fulfil 
All  the  purpose  of  His  goodness,  all  the  splendour  of  His 

will. 
Only  trust  the  living  Saviour,  only  trust  Him  all  the  way. 
And  your  springtide  path  shall  brighten  to  the  perfect 
summer  day ! 


Ube  Sono  of  a  Sumincu  Sticain. 

A  FEW  months  ago 
I  was  singing  through  the  snow. 
Though  the  dead  brown  boughs  gave  no  hope  of  summer 
shoots, 

And  my  persevering  fall 
Seemed  to  be  no  use  at  all. 
For   the  hard,  hard  frost  would  not   let  me  reach  the 
roots. 


212  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


Then  the  mists  hung  chill 

All  along  the  wooded  hill, 
And  the  cold,  sad  fog  through  my  lonely  dingles  crept ; 

I  was  glad  I  had  no  power 

To  awake  one  tender  flower 
To  a  sure,  swift  doom  !     I  would  rather  that  it  slept. 

Still  I  sang  all  alone 

In  the  sweet  old  summer  tone, 

For  the  strong  white  ice  could  not  hush  me  for  a  day ; 
Though  no  other  voice  was  heard 
But  the  bitter  breeze  that  whirred 

Past  the  gaunt,  grey  trunks  on  its  wild  and  angry  way. 

So  the  dim  days  sped, 

While  everything  seemed  dead, 

And  my  own  poor  flow  seemed  the  only  living  sign  ; 
And  the  keen  stars  shone 
When  the  freezing  night  came  on. 

From  the  far,  far  heights,  all  so  cold  and  crystalline. 

A  few  months  ago 

I  was  singing  through  the  snow  ! 
But  now  the  blessed  sunshine  is  filling  all  the  land, 

And  the  memories  are  lost 

Of  the  winter  fog  and  frost, 
In   the   presence   of  the   Summer   with   her   full   and 
glowing  hand. 

Now  the  woodlark  comes  to  drink 
At  my  cool  and  pearly  brink. 


AN  A  UTUMN  HOLIDA  Y.  213 

And  cbe  ladyfern  is  bending  to  kiss  my  rainbow  foam ; 
And  the  wild-rose  buds  entwine 
With  the  dark-leaved  bramble-vine, 

And  the  centuried  oak  is  green  around  the  bright-eyed 
squirrel's  home. 

0  the  full  and  glad  content, 
That  my  Uttle  song  is  blent 

With  the  all-melodious  mingling  of  the  choristers  around ! 

1  no  longer  sing  alone 

Through  a  chill  surrounding  moan, 
For  the  very  air  is  trembling  with  its  wealth  of  summer 
sound. 

Though  the  hope  seemed  long  deferred, 
Ere  the  south  wind's  whisper  heard 

Gave  a  promise  of  the  passing  of  the  weary  winter  days, 
Yet  the  blessing  was  secure. 
For  the  summer  time  was  sure 

When   the   lonely   songs   are  gathered  in   the   miglUy 
choir  of  praise. 


Hn  Hutumn  1fDolit)ay. 

I  don't  want  to  think  about  '  the  meaning,' 
I  don't  want  to  think  fine  thoughts  at  all ! 

On  the  great  heather  cushions  leaning, 
I'm  watching  the  sunset,  that  is  all ! 

Why  should  I  puzzle  and  tease  with  questions, 
When  Nature  shows  me  her  picture-book  ? 


214  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

I  will  leave  her  to  make  her  own  suggestions, 
And  just  do  nothing  but  sit  and  look. 

I  have  finished  the  work  of  a  busy  season, 
And  I  want  to  quiet  a  busy  brain, 

Now  is  the  time  for  rest  (in  reason), 
Before  I  begin  a  new  campaign. 

And  oh  it  is  rest,  and  most  delicious, 
To  know  that  I  need  not  speak  a  word ; 

By  only  the  midges  (most  officious  !) 
Could  anything  here  be  overheard. 

Isiit  it  nice !     The  bracken  browning 
Is  almost  gold  in  the  autumn  glow, 

And  the  silver  birch,  with  the  same  fair  crowning, 
Gleams  like  a  streak  of  glistening  snow. 

The  sweet  south  air  is  so  soft  and  quiet, 
Stealing  along  through  the  fern  to  me. 

After  the  most  uncivil  riot 

Of  his  cousin  from  over  the  western  sea. 

The  broad  blaze  hides  all  the  fresh-foldings, 

Under  the  flood  of  sunset  light, 
And  touches  anew  all  the  quarry  mouldings 

Of  the  eastern  hills  with  its  gilding  bright. 

The  clouds  are  hanging  a  cool  grey  curtain, 
Up  in  the  north  till  the  sun  gets  low ; 

Only  biding  their  time,  and  certain 
Then  to  flaunt  in  a  crimson  show. 


THE  SONG  OF  LOVE.  215 

Slowly,  slowly  the  sun  is  sinking, 

Silence  and  glory  are  everywhere  ! 
No  more  writing,  and  no  more  thinking  ! 

Only  rest  in  the  golden  air  ! 


I  PASSED  along  the  meadows  fair. 
The  lark's  loud  carol  filled  the  air, 

A  living  song  up-soaring. 
A  wanderer  passed  along,  and  sang 
A  song  that  all  the  lark's  outrang. 
His  very  soul  outpouring. 

*  Still  onward  to  my  quiet  home, 

With  yearning,  glad  endeavour. 
Still  singing  all  the  way  I  roam 
A  song  of  love  for  ever.' 

I  passed  along  the  forest  green, 
And  heard  a  song  ring  out  between 

The  leafy  aisles  o'erarching. 
The  music  filled  the  silent  shade, 
The  singer  passed  through  glen  and  glade, 
With  steady  footstep  marching. 
'  Still  onward  to  my  quiet  home, 

With  yearning,  glad  endeavour, 
Still  singing  all  the  way  I  roam 
A  song  of  love  for  ever.' 

I  lingered  by  the  river  side, 
And  watched  a  tiny  vessel  glide, 
And  saw  the  white  sails  glisten : 


2i6  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

The  helm  was  in  the  wanderer's  hand, 
The  same  clear  music  reached  the  strand, 
And  bid  my  whole  soul  listen. 
*  Still  onward  to  my  quiet  home, 

With  yearning,  glad  endeavour, 
Still  singing  all  the  way  I  roam 
A  song  of  love  for  ever.' 

I  passed  the  quiet  churchyard  bound, 
And  stood  beside  a  new-made  mound 

In  silent  sunset  glory ; 
The  flowering  grasses,  fresh  and  fair, 
Waved  lightly  in  the  golden  air. 
And  softly  told  the  story. 

'  He  resteth  in  his  blessed  home, 

Whence  nothing  now  can  sever. 
Still  singing,  though  no  more  to  roam, 
His  song  of  love  for  ever.' 


Ube  Hwa??enfng, 

So  it  has  come  to  you,  dear, 

Come  so  soon ! 
Come  in  the  sunshine  early, 
Come  in  the  morning  pearly, 
Not  in  the  blaze  of  noon. 

Yes,  it  has  come  to  you,  dear, 

Strange  and  sweet ; 
Come  ere  the  merry  May-time 
Melts  to  the  glowing  hay-time. 
Hushed  in  the  sultry  heat. 


THE  A  WA  KENING.  2 1 7 

Come — with  mysterious  shadow, 

Weird  and  new, — 
Come  with  a  magic  lustre 
Hung  on  the  shining  cluster 
Ripening  fast  for  you. 

Come  !  and  the  exquisite  minor, 

Rich  and  deep, 
Swells  with  ^olian  blending 
Chords  of  the  spirit,  ending 
Boyhood's  enchanted  sleep. 

Sleep  that  is  past  for  ever  ! 

Is  it  gain  ? 
What  does  the  waking  seem  like  ? 
Love  that  is  only  dream-like 
Sings  not  a  truthful  strain. 

Hearts  that  have  roused  and  listened 

Never  more, 
(Though  they  may  miss  the  crossed  tones, 
Though  they  may  mourn  the  lost  tones,) 
Sleep  as  they  slept  before. 

Come  !  and  the  great  transition 

Now  is  past ! 
Never  again  the  boy-life. 
Only  the  pain — and  joy-life. 
More  of  the  first  than  last. 

Come  !  and  they  do  not  guess  it, 
Why  such  a  change  ! 


2i8  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Why  should  the  mirth  and  riot 
Tone  into  manly  quiet ! 
Is  it  not  passing  strange  ? 

Come  !    'Tis  a  night  of  wonder 

At  this  call 
Characters  cabalistic, 
Writings  all  dim  and  mystic 
Tremble  upon  the  wall. 

Come  !  am  I  glad  or  sorry  ? 

Wait  and  see  ! 
Wait  for  God's  silent  moulding, 
Wait  for  His  full  unfolding, 
Wait  for  the  days  to  be. 


ITbe  iP»oet's  Zenitb. 

Night  is  heavy  on  the  valley  where  the  river  mist  is  chill, 
Heavy,  where  the  cloud  pavilion  closes  round  the  silent 

hill; 
Every  tiny  light  that  glimmered  from  the  windows  near 

and  far, 
One  by   one   in  sudden  darkness   has   vanished   like   a 

lonely  star. 
All  but  one,  and  that  is  shining  where  the  midnight  air 

creeps  in, 
Cooling   with   its   clammy   touch    a   burning   brow    and 

fingers  thin  ; 
Brow  inscribed  by  graving  tool  of  thought  in  life's  deep 

colours  dipped. 
Fingers  that  are  resting  proudly  on  unfinished  manuscript. 


THE  POETS  ZENITH.  219 

*  Finished  !     'Tis  my  best,  I  take  it, — best  that  bears  my 

name  as  yet ; 
I  am  weary,  but  'tis  worth  it,  now  my  signature  is  set. 
How  the  closing  verses  thrilled  me !  seemed  that  they 

were  hardly  mine, 
Flashing  up  in  bright  succession  at  my  summons  line  by 

line. 
It  has  been  as  though  my  spirit  leapt  beyond  herself,  and 

left 
Half  her  being  yet  entangled  in  a  sombre  earthly  weft, 
While  her  essence  soared  unfearing  upward  to  the  Infinite, 
With  a  new  and  sudden  power,  with  a  new  and  sudden 

light. 
Year  by  year  have  many  listened  to  the  truths  I  sought 

to  teach, 
Eut  the  work  this  night  sees  ended,  many  more  shall 

surely  reach. 
It  is  farther,  farther  reaching,  fond  ideals  nearing  more 
Than  the  last,  yet  that  was  stronger  than  the  one  that 

came  before. 
Finished !  but  I  know  my  power,  know  that  I  have  more 

to  say. 
Know  that  better  work  and  deeper  shall  be  done  another 

day.' 

Was  it  so  ?    The  hair  grew  greyer,  but  the  eye  retained 

its  light ; 
Year  by  year  his  shining  fire-notes  fell  into  the  human  night, 
And  his  audience  grew  larger,  more  and  more  the  souls 

he  stirred, 
Till  the  Poet's  name  had  risen  to  become  a  household 

word. 


220  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Yet  a  whisper  rose  and  mingled  with  the  shoutings  of 

his  fame  : 
'  This  or  that  is  splendid,  adding  lustre  to  a  lustrous  name, 
Some  for  tenderness  and  sweetness,  some  for  favour  and 

for  force ; 
All  his  later  works  are  fine,  and  so  we  read  them — oh,  of 

course  ! 
But  the  focus  of  his  power,  in  the  poem  we  love  best, 
Stands  alone  for  depth  and  beauty,  far  outweighing  all 

the  rest. 
There's  a  vividness,  a  glory,  something  felt  though  not 

defined. 
Making   one   forget   the    poet   in    that   light   and   truth 

combined. 
Not  an  old  man,  and  experience  adding  treasure  for  his  mint ! 
Yet  his  golden  coin  seems  bearing  less  imperial  imprint. 
It  is  heresy,  we  know  it,  for  his  verse  is  all  so  good. 
But  why  does  he  never  write  as  once  he  did  and  surely 

could  ? ' 

Well,  the  fatal  whisper  reached  him,  floated  like  a  seed 

of  grief, 
Thistle-down,  that  soon  upspringing,  wounded  him  with 

thorny  leaf; 
Slowly,  surely,  came  the  knowledge  that  the  springtide  of 

his  power 
All  unknown  had  reached  its  zenith  in  the  rapture  of  an 

hour; 
That   the    ebbing  and    the   flowing   never   reached   the 

shining  mark 
Where  the  wave  of  life  rose  highest  in  that  midnight  still 

and  dark. 


MISCHIEF  MAKING.  221 


/llbtscbiet  /IDafting, 

Only  a  tiny  dropping 
From  a  tiny  hidden  leak ; 

But  the  flow  is  never  stopping, 
And  the  flaw  is  far  to  seek. 

Only  some  trickling  water, 

Nothing  at  all  at  first ; 
But  it  grows  to  a  valley-slaughter, 

For  the  reservoir  has  burst ! 

The  wild  flood  once  in  motion. 
Who  shall  arrest  its  course  ? 

As  well  restrain  the  ocean 
As  that  ungoverned  force ! 

Mourn  for  the  desolations, 
And  help  the  ruined  men, 

Till  next  spring's  fair  creations 
Make  the  valley  smile  again. 

Help  with  a  free,  pure  pity, 

For  your  hands  in  this  are  clean. 

You  dwelt  in  the  far-off  city, 
With  many  a  mile  between. 

You  did  not  watch  the  flowing 
Of  the  treacherous,  trickling  rill : 

You  did  not  aid  the  growing 
Of  the  tiny  rifts  in  the  hill. 


222  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

What  if  you  had  ?     I  leave  it, 
It  is  too  dark  a  thought ; 

How  could  the  heart  conceive  it  ? 
How  came  it,  all  unsought  ? 


II. 


A  look  of  great  affliction, 

As  you  tell  what  one  told  you, 

With  a  feeble  contradiction, 
Or  a  '  hope  it  is  not  true  ! ' 

A  story  quite  too  meagre 

For  naming  any  more, 
Only  your  friend  seems  eager 

To  know  a  little  more. 

No  doubt  of  explanation, 
If  all  was  known,  you  see ; 

One  might  get  information 
From  Mrs.  A.  or  B. 

Only  some  simple  queries 

Passed  on  from  tongue  to  tongue; 
Though  the  ever-growing  series 

Has  out  of  nothing  sprung. 

Only  a  faint  suggestion, 

Only  a  doubtful  hint. 
Only  a  leading  question 

With  a  special  tone  or  tint. 


THE  LO RELY.  223 


Only  a  low  '  I  wonder ! ' 

Nothing  unfair  at  all ; 
But  the  whisper  grows  to  thunder, 

And  a  scathing  bolt  may  fall ; 

And  a  good  ship  is  dismasted, 
And  hearts  are  like  to  break, 

And  a  Christian  life  is  blasted, 
For  a  scarcely-guessed  mistake ! 


Ah,  where  are  the  echoes  of  gladness 
Which  dwell  in  my  listening  mind  ? 

What  meaneth  the  whisper  of  sadness, 
Like  the  moan  of  the  autumn  wind  r 

I  am  chained  by  an  often  told  story, 
Come  down  from  the  olden  time 

When  fairydom  saw  its  glory, 
A  haunting,  saddening  chime. 

The  air  is  still  and  darkling. 
And  silently  flows  the  Rhine  ; 

The  mountain  peaks  are  sparkling. 
Where  sunset  rays  yet  shine. 

A  strangely  beauteous  maiden 
Sits  high  on  the  grim  rock  there 

Her  arms  are  with  rich  gems  laden. 
She  combeth  her  golden  hair. 


224  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

With  a  golden  comb  she  is  combing, 
And  sings  an  enchanted  song, 

And  wondrously  through  the  gloaming 
That  melody  floats  along. 

Then  a  wild  weird  sorrow  amazeth 
The  boatman  in  gliding  skiff, 

While  upward  alone  he  gazeth 
He  sees  not  the  fatal  cliff. 

The  wave-bells  a  knell  are  ringing, 
For  the  Rhine  his  prey  hath  won, 

And  that  with  her  syren-singing 

Hath  the  Sprite  of  the  Lorely  done. 


jfor  2Denmarft,  bo  I 

For  Denmark,  ho  ! 

Is  the  cry,  we  know. 
And  the  shout, — Arise,  arise  ! 

They  are  struggling  long 

'Gainst  might  and  wrong, 
The  valiant  weak,  with  the  craven  strong, 
Their  homes  the  invader's  prize. 

A  fair  fresh  Rose, 

From  her  northern  snows, 
Is  worn  on  England's  heart, 

And  shall  England  see 

Her  parent  tree 
Crushed  by  malice  ?     It  shall  not  be, — 

Ours  be  the  helper's  part. 


MY  SINGING  LESSON.  225 

Let  a  voice  of  might 

For  the  just  and  right 
Resound  o'er  sea  and  land ; 

Let  the  olive  fade 

Ere  we  fail  in  aid, 
And  the  far-seen  gleams  of  a  half-drawn  blade 

Flash  from  our  ready  hand. 


ABSTRACT. 

Here  beginneth — chapter  the  first  of  a  series, 
To  be  followed  by  manifold  notes  and  queries ; 
So  novel  the  queries,  so  trying  the  notes, 
I  think  I  must  have  the  queerest  of  throats, 
And  most  notable  dulness,  or  else  long  ago 
The  Signor  had  given  up  teaching,  I  trow. 
I  wonder  if  ever  before  he  has  taught 
A  pupil  who  can't  do  a  thing  as  she  ought ! 

The  voice  has  machinery — (now  to  be  serious). 
Invisible,  delicate,  strange,  and  mysterious. 
A  wonderful  organ-pipe  firstly  we  trace. 
Which  is  small  in  a  tenor  and  wide  in  a  bass ; 
Below  an  ^olian  harp  is  provided. 
Through  whose  fairy-like  fibres  the  air  will  be  guided- 
Above  is  an  orifice,  larger  or  small 
As  the  singer  desires  to  rise  or  to  fall ; 
Expand  and  depress  it  to  deepen  your  roar, 
But  raise  and  contract  it  when  high  you  would  soar. 

p 


226  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Alas  for  the  player,  the  pipes,  and  the  keys, 

If  the  bellows  give  out  an  inadequate  breeze  ! 

So  this  is  the  method  of  getting  up  steam, 

The  one  motive  power  for  song  or  for  scream  : 

Slowly  and  deeply,  and  just  like  a  sigh, 

Fill  the  whole  chest  with  a  mighty  supply ; 

Through  the  mouth  only,  and  not  through  the  nose, 

And  the  lungs  must  condense  it  ere  farther  it  goes 

{Hoia  to  condense  it,  I  really  don't  know, 

And  very  much  hope  the  next  lesson  will  show). 

Then,  forced  from  each  side,  through  the  larynx  it  comes, 

And  reaches  the  region  of  molars  and  gums, 

And  half  of  the  sound  will  be  ruined  or  lost 

If  by  any  impediment  here  it  is  crossed. 

On  the  soft  of  the  palate  beware  lest  it  strike, 

The  effect  would  be  such  as  your  ear  would  not  like. 

And  arch  not  the  tongue,  or  the  terrified  note 

Will  straightway  be  driven  back  into  the  throat. 

Look  well  to  your  trigger,  nor  hasten  to  pull  it : 

Once  hear  the  report  and  you've  done  with  your  bullet 

In  the  feminine  voice  there  are  registers  three, 

Which  upper,  and  middle,  and  lower  must  be ; 

And  each  has  a  sounding-board  all  of  its  own, 

The  chest,  lips,  and  head,  to  reverberate  tone. 

But  in  cavities  nasal  it  never  must  ring. 

Or  no  one  is  likely  to  wish  you  to  sing. 

And  if  on  this  subject  you  waver  in  doubt. 

By  listening  and  feeling  the  truth  will  come  out. 

The  lips,  by  the  bye,  will  have  plenty  to  do 

In  forming  the  vowels  Italian  and  true , 

Eschewing  the  English,  uncertain  and  hideous, 

With  an  O  and  a  t/'that  are  simply  amphibious^ 


i 


TO  THE  CHOIR  OF  LLANGRYFFYTH.  227 

In  flexible  freedom  let  both  work  together, 

And  the  under  one  must  not  be  stiffened  like  leather. 

Here  endeth  the  substance  of  what  I  remember, 
Indited  this  twenty-sixth  day  of  November. 


(or  whomsoever  it  may  concern.) 

We  nowadays  hear  of  all  sorts  of  progression 

In  science  or  politics,  custom  or  view, 

In  business,  or  fashion.     Perhaps  the  precession 

Of  equinoxes  has  something  to  do 

With  the  rate  at  which  we  are  going.     'T  is  true 

That  progress  is  now  and  then  retrogression, 

And  the  new  is  the  old  when  the  old  is  the  new. 

So  they  breakfast  at  one  and  they  lunch  at  four, 

And  are  sitting  at  dinner  at  half-past  nine. 

And  go  to  bed  when  the  night  is  o'er. 

And  get  up  when  the  day  begins  to  decline. 

If  they  only  progress  in  the  same  direction, 

A  few  more  years  will  bring  it  all  right ; 

They  will  rise  in  the  morning,  not  dreading  detection, 

And  return  to  the  habit  of  sleeping  at  night. 

Though  the  world  of  fashion  progresses  so  fleetly, 
The  church  at  Llangryffyth  outdoes  it  completely ; 
For  at  twelve  o'clock,  nay,  ten  minutes  past, 
By  a  watch  that  was  certainly  not  too  fast, 
The  choir  exhorted  our  souls  to  awake, 
And  slumber  and  sleepiness  off  to  shake, 


228  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

A-nd  then  and  there  from  our  beds  to  rise, 

Exactly  as  if  we  were  rubbing  our  eyes. 

A  little  bit  later  were  more  apropos, 

For  afternoon  drowsiness  lazy  and  slow 

Might  make  an  excuse  for  a  timely  suggestion. 

Then,  further,  the  sun  was  brought  into  the  question, 

As  if  he  were  rising  at  that  time  of  day. 

Instead  of  completing  the  half  of  his  way. 

Nor  these  incongruities  only  appeared  : 

We  thought  that  good  Welshmen  the  Sabbath  revered, 

And  that  '  daily  duties '  aside  were  laid 

That  respect  to  our  Holy  Day  might  be  paid ; 

Iiesti?ig,  not  ^running'  the  trodden  ways 

Of  the  cares  and  business  of  other  days. 

But  here  at  Llangryffyth  the  choir  advise. 

With  the  Fourth  Commandment  plain  under  their  e5'es, 

To  '  awake '  (ten  minutes  past  twelve  !)  '  with  the  sun,' 

And  our  '  daily  stage  of  duty  run^ 

What  would  the  good  old  Bishop  have  said 

(Who  sang  the  sweet  verses  upon  his  bed. 

Day  by  day  as  the  morning  broke, 

And  the  busy  week-day  world  awoke) 

Of  the  common  sense  of  those  who  bring  \ 

Such  meaningless  praise  to  the  Heavenly  King ! 

O  choir  of  Llangryffyth,  your  office  high 

Is  to  '  teach  and  admonish,'  and  edify, — 

To  wield  an  influence  deep  and  strong. 

The  heart  to  touch  and  the  soul  to  raise, — 

In  God's  own  temple  to  lift  the  song, 

To  bring  a  tribute  of  holy  praise 

Before  the  Lord,  who  entrusts  to  you 

His  gift  of  music,  so  high  and  true  1 


THE  TURNED  LESSON.  229 

Be  it  yours  the  preacher's  words  to  meet, 
He  choosing  wisely,  ye  singing  sweet 
Of  the  bright  inheritance  kept  above,^ 
Of  the  Living  Water,  the  Fount  of  love.^ 
May  He  who  gave  you  voice  and  skill 
So  tune  your  hearts  that  ye  may  indeed 
Your  ministry  of  song  fulfil, 
And  '  with  understanding '  His  praises  lead. 


P.  S.  — It  mig/ii  be  as  well  if  the  whole  congregation 
Could  join  in  the  Canticles'  grand  adoration. 
But  the  few  that  try  at  your  speed,  you  will  find, 
Are  speedily  distanced  and  left  behind. 
It  7;n'g/i^  be  as  well  for  the  Kyrie  to  bear 
Some  slight  resemblance  to  penitent  prayer ; 
Not  tripping  it  off  in  cheerful  repeat 
To  a  pretty  tune  with  a  lively  beat. 
It  7nigJit  be  as  well  in  the  hymns  if  we  could 
Take  breath  where  the  writers  intended  we  should, 
Not  hunting  and  racing  the  sense  to  death 
By  aiming  at  singing  a  verse  in  a  breath. 


ZCbe  Uurne^  Xessom 

'  I  THOUGHT  I  knew  it ! '  she  said, 
'  I  thought  I  had  learnt  it  quite  ! ' 

'  The  morning  text — Pet.  i.  5  :  '  An  inheritance  reserved.' 

'  The  evening  text — Rev.  xxii.  17  :  '  Let  him  take  the  Water  of  Life." 


230  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

But  the  gentle  Teacher  shook  her  head, 

With  a  grave  yet  loving  light 
In  the  eyes  that  fell  on  the  upturned  face, 

As  she  gave  the  book 
With  the  mark  still  set  in  the  self-same  place. 

'  I  thought  I  knew  it ! '  she  said ; 

And  a  heavy  tear  fell  down, 
As  she  turned  away  with  bending  head, 

Yet  not  for  reproof  or  frown, 
Not  for  the  lesson  to  learn  again, 

Or  the  play-hour  lost ; — 
It  was  something  else  that  gave  the  pain. 

She  could  not  have  put  it  in  words, 

But  the  Teacher  understood, 
As  God  understands  the  chirp  of  the  birds 

In  the  depth  of  an  autumn  wood. 
And  a  quiet  touch  on  the  reddening  cheek 

Was  quite  enough ; 
No  need  to  question,  no  need  to  speak. 

Then  the  gentle  voice  was  heard, 

'  Now  I  will  try  you  again  ! ' 
And  the  lesson  was  mastered, — every  word  I 

Was  it  not  worth  the  pain  ? 
Was  it  not  kinder  the  task  to  turn, 

Than  to  let  it  pass, 
As  a  lost,  lost  leaf  that  she  did  not  learn  ? 

Is  it  not  often  so, 

That  we  only  learn  in  part, 


THE  TURNED  LESSON.  231 


And  the  Master's  testing-time  may  show 

That  it  was  not  quite  '  by  heart '  ? 
Then  He  gives,  in  His  wise  and  patient  grace, 

That  lesson  again 
With  the  mark  still  set  in  the  self-same  place. 

Only,  stay  by  His  side 

Till  the  page  is  really  known, 
It  may  be  we  failed  because  we  tried 

To  learn  it  all  alone. 
And  now  that  He  would  not  let  us  lose 

One  lesson  of  love 
{For  He  knows  the  loss) — can  we  refuse  ? 

But  oh  !  how  cotild  we  dream 

That  we  knew  it  all  so  well  ? 
Reading  so  fluently,  as  we  deem, 

What  we  could  not  even  spell ! 
And  oh  !  how  could  we  grieve  once  more 

That  patient  One 
Who  has  turned  So  many  a  task  before  ? 

That  waiting  One,  who  now 

Is  letting  us  try  again ; 
Watching  us  with  the  patient  brow 

That  bore  the  wreath  of  pain ; 
Thoroughly  teaching  what  He  would  teach, 

Line  upon  line, 
Thoroughly  doing  His  work  in  each. 

Then  let  our  hearts  'be  still,' 

Though  our  task  is  turned  to-day. 


232  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Oh  let  Him  teach  us  what  He  will, 

In  His  own  gracious  way, 
Till,  sitting  only  at  Jesu's  feet, 

As  we  learn  each  line, 
The  hardest  is  found  all  clear  and  sweet ! 


Xeanfna  o\?ev  tbe  Materfall. 

A  young  lady,  aged  20,  fell  over  the  rocks  at  the  Swallow  Waterfall  in 
the  summer  of  1873,  and  was  lost  to  sight  in  a  raoment.  The  body  was 
not  recovered  till  four  hours  afterwards. 

Leaning  over  the  waterfall ! 

Lured  by  the  fairy  sight, 
Heeding  not  the  warning  call, 

Watching  the  foam  and  the  flow, 
Smooth  and  dark,  or  swift  and  bright. 
Here  in  the  shade  and  there  in  the  light ! 

Oh,  who  could  know 
The  coming  sorrow,  the  nearing  woe  ! 

Leaning  over  the  waterfall ! 

Only  a  day  before 
She  had  spoken  of  Jesu's  wondrous  call. 

As  He  trod  the  waves  of  Galilee. 
They  asked,  as  she  gazed  from  the  sunset  shore, 
'  If  He  walked  that  water,  what  would  you  do  ? ' 
Then  fell  the  answer,  glad  and  true, 

'  If  He  beckoned  me, 
I  would  go  to  Him  on  the  pathless  sea.' 

Leaning  over  the  waterfall 
Only  a  moment  before ! 


\ 


LEANING  OVER  THE  WATERFALL.  233 

And  then  the  slip,  the  helpless  call, 

The  plunge  unheard  in  the  pauseless  roar 
By  the  startled  watchers  on  the  shore ; 

And  the  feet  that  stood  by  the  waterfall, 
So  fair  and  free, 

Are  standing  with  Christ  by  the  crystal  sea. 

Leaning  over  the  waterfall ! 

Have  you  not  often  leant 
(What  should  hinder  ?  or  what  appal  ?) 
Freely,  fearlessly,  over  the  brink, 

Merrily  glancing  adown  the  stream. 

Or  gazing  wrapt  in  a  musical  dream 
At  the  lovely  waters  ?     But  pause  and  think — 

Who  kept  your  feet, 
And  suffered  you  not  such  death  to  meet  ? 

Leaning  over  the  waterfall ! 

What  if  your  feet  had  slipped  ? 
Never  a  moment  of  power  to  call, 

Never  a  hand  in  time  to  save 

From  the  terrible  rush  of  the  ruthless  wave  I 
Hearken  !  would  it  be  ill  or  well 

If  thus  you  fell  ? 
Hearken  !  would  it  be  heaven  or  hell  ? 

Leaning  over  the  waterfall ! 

Listen,  and  learn,  and  lean  ! 
Listen  to  Him  whose  loving  call 

Soundeth  deep  in  your  heart  to-day  ! 

Learn  of  Jesus,  the  only  way, 
How  to  be  holy,  how  to  be  blest ! 

Lean  on  His  breast. 
And  yours  shall  be  safety  and  joy  and  rest. 


234  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


trbe  SeeD  of  %Qm. 

The  seed  of  a  song  was  cast 

On  the  listening  hearts  around, 

And  the  sweetly  winning  sound 
In  a  few  short  minutes  passed. 
But  a  song  of  perfect  praise, 

And  a  song  of  perfect  love 
Was  the  harvest  after  many  days, 
Beneath  the  everlasting  rays 

Of  the  summer-time  above. 

The  seed  of  a  single  word 

Fell  among  the  furrows  deep, 

In  their  silent,  wintry  sleep, 
And  the  sower  never  an  echo  heard. 
But  the  '  Come  ! '  was  not  in  vain. 

For  that  germ  of  Life  and  Love, 
And  the  blessed  Spirit's  quickening  rain, 
Made  a  golden  sheaf  of  precious  grain  '' 

For  the  Harvest  Home  above. 

Will  you  not  sow  that  song?  1 

Will  you  not  drop  that  word 

Till  the  coldest  hearts  be  stirred 
From  their  slumber  deep  and  long? 
Then  your  harvest  shall  abound 

With  rejoicing  full  and  grand, 
Where  the  heavenly  summer-songs  resound, 
And  the  fruits  of  faithful  work  are  found, 

In  the  Glorious  Holy  Land. 


FINIS.  235 


finis. 

I  HAVE  filled  my  book, 

In  odds  and  ends  of  time, 
With  fancies  and  reveries 

And  careless  scraps  of  rhyme. 

It  is, — and  yet  it  is  not 

A  transcript  of  my  soul ; 
For  the  passing  gleams  of  light, 

And  the  passing  clouds  that  roll — 

Like  an  unwilled  photograph, 

Have  printed  their  image  clear ; 
And  the  echo  of  many  a  laugh 

And  of  many  a  sigh  is  here. 

But  words  are  cold,  dead  things, 
And  little  they  tell  of  the  heart. 
Or  the  burning  glow 
Of  the  fount  below, 
Whence  the  glance  and  the  cheek-flush  start. 

I  feel  there  is  more  within 

Than  may  lightly  be  revealed ; 
What  the  spirit  itself  hath  but  dimly  seen 

To  the  pen  may  well  be  sealed. 

Yes,  I  have  filled  my  book, 

And  another  will  soon  begin  : 
But  no  venturous  guess  may  say 

What  shall  be  traced  within ! 


236 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


Shall  its  songs  be  all  of  joy, 

Or  of  deepest  and  keenest  woe  ? 

I  dare  not  anticipate, 

And  I'm  glad  that  I  do  not  knov/. 

Shall  its  yet  unwritten  page 
Be  filled  by  my  restless  hand  ? 

Or  shall  I  be  called  away 

To  the  shores  of  the  Silent  Land  r 


One  thing  I  would  hope  and  pray, 
That  its  record  may  brighter  shine, 

That  an  onward  and  upward  course 
May  be  traced  in  every  line. 

And  that  some  of  its  words  may  cheer 
Some  troubled  and  weary  soul, 

Or  point  as  a  waymark  clear 
To  the  distant  yet  nearing  goal. 

Then  I  shall  not  begrudge  my  thoughts 
Their  robing  of  careless  rhyme  ; 

Or  deem  them  a  useless  waste 
Of  the  priceless  gift  of  Time. 


Enigmas  and  Charades, 


1 


ENIGMA  NO.  I.  2^9 


]entgma  mo,  I. 

An  army  of  Cyclops,  fair  reader,  are  we, 

Yet  your  servants  especially  ought  we  to  be ; 

The  outposts  of  England,  'mid  ocean's  roar, 

We  have  stood  since  the  deluge,  and  perhaps  before. 

From  Pany,  and  Cook,  and  Columbus  too, 
A  vote  of  thanks  to  ourselves  is  due ; 
But  to  Solomon's  ships,  when  to  Ophir  sent, 
Our  aid,  not  asked,  was  of  course  not  lent. 

To  Matilda  of  Flanders'  assistance  we  came, 
When  she  toiled  to  emblazon  the  Conqueror's  fame ; 
And  the  lasting  memorials  we  are  seen, 
In  a  summer  clime,  of  a  swarthier  queen. 

The  records  of  ancient  days  we  bear, 
And  Time  to  erase  us  doth  not  dare. 
Yet  the  poorest  girl  in  our  native  land 
Hath  held  us  fast  in  her  weary  hand 

We  steadily  turn  from  the  tropical  glow 
To  the  dreary  regions  of  ice  and  snow. 
For  we're  firmly  bound  with  a  magic  spell. 
Which  none  may  loose,  or  its  meaning  telL 


240  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 

Woe  to  the  man  who  hath  dared  to  wed 
A  woman  who  us  and  our  use  hath  fled  ! 
If  you  find  us  out,  you  may  claim  to  be 
As  bright  and  as  sharp  as  ever  are  we ! 


A  WHIMSICAL  set  we  must  often  seem. 
Of  crochets  as  full  as  an  organist's  dream ; 
If  we  were  abolished,  there 'd  straightway  be 
A  piscatorian  jubilee. 

We  are  frequently  clothed  in  a  snowy  array 
As  a  maiden  fair  on  her  bridal  day ; 
Yet  we're  often  black  as  the  blackest  night, 
E'en  when  we're  lauding  the  soft  moonlight. 
The  depths  of  the  ocean  we  faithfully  show ; 
On  us  hundreds  of  miles  you  may  swiftly  go ; 
We  measure  the  distance  from  place  to  place, 
And  encircle  the  globe  in  our  wide  embrace. 
Woe,  woe  to  the  soldier  who  dares  to  fly 
From  us  when  the  hour  of  battle  is  nigh  ! 
Yet  the  gardener  himself,  in  his  peaceful  trade, 
For  planting  his  cabbages  needs  our  aid. 
If  a  lady  endeavours  her  age  to  hide, 
We  ruthlessly  publish  it  far  and  wide 
Wherever  she  ventures  to  show  her  head ; 
Yet  in  us  her  destiny  oft  is  read. 
In  the  heart  of  a  friend  long,  long  forsaken 
A  few  of  .ourselves  may  deep  gladness  awaken, 
Yet  ours  is  a  many-stringed,  changeful  lyre. 
For  dismay  and  despair  we  may  often  inspire. 


ENIGMA  NO.  3.  241 


We  're  essential  to  poets,  to  artists,  musicians, 
To  all  washerwomen,  and  mathematicians; 
It  required  a  Euclid  to  tell  what  we  be, 
Yet  us  at  this  moment,  fair  reader,  you  see. 


Bnfoma  IR0.  3, 

I  AM  a  native  of  many  a  land, 
Of  Norway's  forests,  of  India's  strand ; 
And  beautiful  England's  smiles  and  tears 
Have  ripened  and  watered  my  early  years. 
I  am  found  near  the  lowliest  cottage  fire, 
And  I  dwell  in  the  solemn  cathedral  choir, 
The  royal  hall  I  am  sure  to  grace. 
And  always  in  Parliament  find  a  place ; 
Around  me  oft  gather  the  great  of  the  land, 
In  front  of  the  Queen  I  audaciously  stand ; 
And  Arthur  himself,  in  days  of  yore, 
Owed  half  his  renown  to  me  or  more. 
As  a  quadruped  oftenest  I  have  been. 
One-legged,  or  three-footed,  or  legless  I'm  seen. 
The  schoolboy  I  help  through  his  hard  calculation 
When  working  a  question  in  multiplication. 
Since  the  era  of  Moses  (who,  truth  to  speak, 
In  a  manner  unfitting  his  character  meek. 
Most  shamefully  used  me),  till  quite  of  late, 
I've  always  been  sober,  and  still,  and  sedate ; 
But  now  I  am  playing  such  wondrous  vagaries, 
That  whether  Beelzebub,  witches,  or  fairies, 
Electric  attraction,  or  galvanic  power, 
Have  thus  turned  my  head,  up  to  this  present  hour, 

Q 


242  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 


The  wisest  and  cleverest  brains  of  the  day, 

Quite  out  of  their  depth,  are  unable  to  say. 

In  olden  days  to  my  care  were  confided 

The  laws  by  which  monarchs  and   subjects   were 

guided ; 
The  records  of  feats  of  chivalry, 
Or  of  deeds  of  blood,  were  preserved  by  me  : 
But  now  having  leaves,  though,  alas  !  no  flower, 
I  bear  what  must  pass  in  a  single  hour. 


Of  a  useful  whole  I'm  the  most  useful  part ; 

I've  a  good  circulation,  for  I've  a  heart ; 

I  have  two  or  three  garments  or  outer  clothes  \ 

I  am  closely  allied  to  a  lip  and  nose ; 

Rags,  and  parchments,  and  jewels  rare. 

Rubbish  and  treasures  within  me  I  bear  ; 

The  tiniest  leaf  I  produce  I  can  nip 

With  a  dexterous  finger  and  thumb  at  my  tip ; 

Though  I'm  often  as  tall  as  a  spire  to  view, 

If  you  travel  far  I  accompany  you ; 

I  am  the  Indian's  light  canoe  : 

To  puzzle  you  more,  I'm  an  aqueduct  too ; 

I'm  part  of  a  garment  of  olden  time, 

And  part  of  a  beast  of  a  southern  clime ; 

And  finally,  now,  to  crown  the  whole, 

I  am  your  body,  but  not  your  soul  I 


ENIGMA  NO.  6.  243 


Bniama  1Ro»  5, 

A  TERM  for  autumn  leaves  when  all  their  lovely  tints  are 

fled; 
A  mountain  in  Arabia,  lifting  high  its  rocky  head ; 
What  witches  and  astrologers  pretend  they  truly  are ; 
A  state  from  which  I  greatly  hope  your  conscience  still  is 

far: 
Those  four  arc  all  alike,  you'll  see,  in  mere  pronunciation, 
But  diverse  in  orthography  and  in  signification. 
Transpose  the  second,  you  will  gain  the  title  of  a  king. 
And  what  you  would  be  sure  to  do  if  he  should  enter  in  ; 
Transpose  the   fourth,  you'll   see   at   once   how  ancient 

warriors  treated 
The  cities  of  the  enemy,  with  passion  overheated ; 
Transpose  the  third,  and  lo  !  the  first  will  straightway  be 

revealed. 
Now,  reader,  I  shall  like  to  see  this  mystery  unsealed. 

Bnioma  Bo.  6. 

Seventeen  hundred  and  sixty  yards, 

A  maiden's  name  and  a  term  at  cards, 

A  halting  leg,  something  stronger  than  beer, 

A  river  to  many  a  student  dear, 

A  fragrant  tree,  and  a  foreign  fruit, 

A  government  coach  on  a  postal  route, 

Honiton,  Brussels,  or  Valenciennes, 

A  spice  preceding  bishops  and  deans, 

A  sin  of  the  tongue,  and  the  stronger  sex, 

The  state  of  the  sea  when  no  tempests  vex, 


244  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 

What  you  look  for  three  or  four  times  a  day, 
What  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  the  crown  will  lay, 
Three  Scripture  names,  and  a  region  wide, 
What  an  archer  takes  his  shaft  to  guide  : 
With  six  little  letters  all  these  are  framed  ; 
When  each  you  have  duly  and  rightly  named, 
They  form  what  I  hope  you  will  never  dare 
Against  friend  or  foe  in  your  heart  to  bear. 


Bntama  IRo.  1, 

If  you  get  into  me,  I  have  no  sort  of  doubt. 
But  that  you  will  endeavour  forthwith  to  get  out  ; 
Behead  me,  and  then  I'm  the  lone  widow's  weeds  j 
Behead  me  again,  and  I'm  tiny  round  seeds; 
Repeat  yet  again  the  above  operation. 
And  I  am  renowned  for  my  quick  imitation, 
My  mischievous  habits,  and  horrid  grimaces, — 
You're  myself,  if  you  practise  unnatural  graces. 


What  was  I  ?    Such  a  clever  friar, 
I  barely  'scaped  the  witches'  pyre  \ 
Yet  doth  philosophy  in  me 
One  of  her  bright  admirers  see  ; 
And  forms  of  classic  beauty  grew 
Beneath  my  hand  to  nature  true ; 
Each  wondrous  magic  lantern  show 
To  me  the  happy  children  owe  : 


ENIGMA  NO.   9.  24s 


With  Schwartz  contesting,  I  should  mention 

The  honour  of  his  great  invention. 

What  am  I  ?     What  you  may  despise. 

For  I  am  little  more  than  grease, 

And  yet  I  am  an  annual  prize 

For  matrimonial  love  and  peace. 

In  every  scrape  or  awkward  plight 

I  hope  to  save  me  you'll  be  able. 

I  am  the  ploughboy's  great  delight, 

And  often  grace  his  Sunday  table. 

From  dreams  of  mire  and  sweet  repose 

To  streaky  excellence  I  rose ; 

And,  following  still  the  chimney  sweep, 

I  learned  to  smoke  instead  of  sleep 


Biiiama  IR0.  9. 

In  fiery  caverns  was  my  glowing  birth, 

The  great  laboratories  of  the  earth ; 

Thence  issuing,  with  devastating  power, 

Entombing  cities  in  a  single  hour ; 

The  vineyards  of  bright  Sicily  have  been 

Of  my  o'erwhelming  might  too  oft  the  dreary  scene 

Yet  I  encircle  many  a  fair  white  arm. 
Or  holding  ink  and  pens  give  no  alarm ; 
Though  none  may  stay  my  incandescent  course 
Till  Neptune  doth  oppose  his  briny  force. 
Mysterious  child  of  subterranean  fires, 
Strange  relics  I  preserve  of  fair  Italia's  sires. 


S46  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 


Bnfcjma  Bo.  10» 

The  royal  sun  with  his  orbed  flame 

To  be  myself  I  modestly  claim  ; 

And  yet,  though  strange,  it  is  perfectly  true, 

I  am  at  this  moment  within  your  shoe. 

Have  you  a  delicate  hand  to  show  ? 

Its  symmetry  partly  to  me  you  owe ; 

And  I  cannot  think  how  you  can  possibly  sec 

If  deprived  in  another  part  of  me. 

The  ancient  dame,  with  her  spectacled  nose, 

By  my  strange  contortions  I  often  pose, 

As  I  glide  away  from  her  busy  hand 

To  rejoice  the  juvenile  feline  band. 

I  am  a  being  of  direful  power. 

And  many  I  haste  to  their  last  dread  hour ; 

Yet  the  tiny  child  on  his  feeble  feet  '\ 

Is  gladdened  and  charmed  by  my  motions  fleet.  J 

I  am  said  to  whistle,  though  not  to  sigh ;  "''' 

Merriment  often  to  hundreds  I  bring. 

On  due  inquiry  I  think  you  will  find 

That  twenty  people  in  me  have  dined ; 

Yet  when  at  dinner  you  take  your  seat 

I  'm  sometimes  the  very  first  thing  you  eat. 

Who  patronise  me  ?    The  college  youth, 

Loving  me  better  than  books  in  truth  ; 

The  friends  of  science,  the  friends  of  strife, 

The  duellist  seeking  his  fellow's  life. 

Of  sharpers  and  blacklegs  not  a  few, 

Equine  doctors  frequently  too, 


I 


ENIGMA  NO.  II.  247 


The  conjuror  showing  his  skilful  tricks, 
In  the  list  the  graceful  and  fair  we  mix ; 
And  last,  not  least,  our  gracious  Queen 
My  patroness  certainly  ever  hath  been. 


JEnigma  1Ro,  XI. 

I  AM  a  reward,  and  a  punishment  too. 

What  you  may  give,  and  what  you  may  do, 

Animal,  mineral,  both  I  may  be. 

Vegetable  oftenest  perhaps  of  the  three. 

Once,  I  know,  as  the  story  goes, 

I  was  the  cause  of  a  bridegroom's  woes ; 

But  often  since  I  have  dimmed  the  life 

Of  a  wearily-sighing  neglected  wife. 

Never  a  court  without  me  was  seen. 

Never  a  vestry  either,  I  ween. 

Never  a  coach,  and  never  a  train, 

Tho'  sometimes  a  hindrance  the  latter  to  gain. 

Famous  I  am  for  a  long  dark  way, 

Dismal  as  night  in  the  brightest  day. 

From  the  depths  of  my  bosom  may  rise  and  float 

Many  a  soft  and  melodious  note ; 

Why  should  ye  marvel  ?     The  rich  and  fair. 

The  gay  and  gorgeous  are  often  there. 

Wherever  the  sweetest  of  sounds  goes  forth 

Through  the  radiant  south  or  the  dreary  north, 

A  tale  of  me  will  be  surely  told, 

Or  false  were  the  words  of  a  prophecy  old. 

A  little  one  longs  to  begin  to  do  good, 

I  sometimes  help  it,  and  always  could ; 


248  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 


Yet  the  hardened  man  and  the  cruel  boy 
May  find  in  me  a  savage  joy. 
Give  me,  and  oh,  what  a  monster  you'll  be ; 
Refiise  me,  *  was  e'er  such  a  niggard  as  he  ;  * 
Hire  me,  then  you  are  rich,  I  conclude  ; 
Mount  me,  and  then  you  may  view  and  be  viewed ; 
Open  me,  perhaps  you  are  even  a  thief, 
Perhaps  't  was  by  way  of  consoling  your  grief  j 
Plant  me,  I  see  you  are  neat  in  your  taste  ; 
Enter  me — nervousness,  flurry,  and  haste 
Won't  at  all  suit,  so  I  pray  you  take  heed, 
Or  counsel  will  into  me  put  you  indeed. 


Bnfgma  1Ro,  12. 

Lives  there  a  poet,  old  or  young, 
Who  has  not  sung  my  praise  ? 

For  ever  silent  be  his  tongue, 
Forgotten  be  his  lays  ! 

I  have  a  father  dark  and  stern, 
A  daughter  bright  and  gay  ; 

I  weep  upon  his  funeral  urn, 
I  die  beneath  her  sway. 

And  yet  that  father  binds  me  fast, 
Hushing  my  low  sweet  voice ; 

That  daughter  sets  me  free  at  last,. 
And  bids  me  still  rejoice. 


I 


ENIGMA  NO.  13.  2d9 


Deceitful  I  am  said  to  be, 
A  thing  of  treacherous  smiles, 

And  many  meet  their  end  in  me, 
Wreck'd  by  my  sunny  wiles. 

Yet  health  and  cure  't  is  mine  to  give 

To  many  a  sickly  frame ; 
An  antelope  of  Africa 

Usurps  my  well-known  name. 

I'm  born  beneath  the  cold  hard  ground, 

Yet  life  and  joy  I  bring, 
With  song  and  mirth  to  all  around, 

Upon  my  emerald  wing. 

I  help  to  measure  Time's  swift  flight ; 

Tide  has  to  do  with  me ; 
In  guns  and  traps  behold  my  might : 

O  say  what  can  I  be  ? 


Bnfoma  IR0.  13. 

That  I  'm  very  well-known  to  all  metaphysicians  't  is  true, 
Whose  brains  I  attempted  to  clear,  being  one  of  the  crew ; 
A  secret  of  wonderful  power  in  me  was  conceal'd, 
Which  firstly  by  love,  but  by  treachery  next  was  revealed  ; 
I  never  am  mentioned  as  living,  though  oft  in  the  city. 
When  said  to  be  dead,  much  impatience  I  rouse,  but  no 

p'ty; 

To  some  navigation  I  lend  indispensable  hand, 
Yet  I'm  not  of  the  slightest  utility  saving  inland. 


250  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 

I  frequently  act  as  a  guardian,  though  I  must  own 
My  wards  to  attain  their  majority  never  were  known  ; 
The  brow  of  the  maiden  to  me  owes  the  half  of  its  charms, 
And  yet,  strange  to  say,  I'm  a  part  of  death-dealing  fire- 
arms. 
I've  a  slim  coadjutor  who  with  me  my  secret  possesses, 
My  master  he  is,  for  he  knows  all  my  inmost  recesses ; 
My  safety  and   faithfulness  vanish  if  once  one  can  gain 

him. 
Yet  I'm  perfectly  useless  without  him,  so  prithee  retain 

him. 
The  apple  Eve  gathered  was  never  supposed  to  be  me, 
And  yet  if  you  pick  me,  beware  of  the  powers  that  be; 
By  a  figure  of  speech  I'm  said  to  be  silver  or  golden, 
Though  to  metals  far  baser  I  really  am  much  more  be- 
holden. 
Of  loved  ones  far  distant  I'm  often  the  fondly  kept  token. 
Memorial  and  echo  of  harpstrings  which  death  had  long 
broken. 


Bnicjma  1Ro,  14, 

I  MAY  be  tall,  and  slender,  and  round, 

Or  perfectly  square,  and  as  flat  as  the  ground ; 

No  edifice  ever  without  me  is  raised. 

And  yet,  when  't  is  finished,  I  never  am  praised. 

The  bears  themselves,  with  a  grim  delight. 
Hail  me  as  an  old  acquaintance  quite  ; 
And  a  smaller  quadruped  lays  its  claim 
With  a  feline  addition  to  bear  my  name. 


ENIGMA  NO.  14.  251 


Glows  there  a  heart  in  the  English  breast 
Which  beats  for  the  injured  and  long  oppressed? 
At  the  thought  of  me  it  Avill  rise  and  swell ; 
For  each  free-soul'd  patriot  knows  me  well. 


Where  may  you  find  me  ?     In  sunny  Kent, 
Where  the  hop-pickers  sing,  while  on  labour  intent 
Or  in  realms  of  ice  and  eternal  snow, 
'Neath  the  gorgeous  aurora's  crimson  glow. 

In  celestial  regions  I'm  certainly  found, 
And  wherever  on  earth  there's  an  acre  of  ground ; 
Where  his  lordship's  chariot  proudly  speeds, 
I  ever  am  close  to  the  high-bred  steeds. 

I  have  stood  very  near  to  the  triple  crown, 
Yet  I  'm  seen  in  the  back  streets  of  every  town  \ 
On  the  festal  day  of  a  short-lived  queen 
The  chief  attraction  I  've  ever  been. 


Attraction,  said  I  ?     You  little  know 
How  much  to  my  power  of  attraction  you  owe  ! 
All  the  gold,  and  the  pearls,  the  silk,  sugar,  and  tea, 
That  are  borne  to  your  homes  o'er  the  pathless  sea. 

I  may  quietly  stand  by  your  drawing-room  fire. 
Bearing  a  comfort  you  often  desire  ! 
Or  stretch  my  bold  arm  o'er  the  surging  wave, 
Some  wretch  from  its  billowy  depths  to  save. 


252  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 


Where  will  ye  seek  me  ?     The  Andes  rise 
Silently  grand  beneath  tropical  skies  ; 
And  far  Himalaya's  crowns  of  snow 
Gleam  o'er  the  burning  plains  below ; 
I  dwell  with  each,  for  the  mountain  air 
Certainly  suits  me  everywhere. 
Know  ye  the  silent  and  death-like  realm, 
Where  winter  hath  donn'd  his  glassy  helm, 
And  conquering  rules  o'er  land  and  sea  ? 
Beneath  his  throne  is  the  home  for  me. 
Ye  may  seek  in  the  gay  and  brilliant  throng, 
Where  the  hours  fleet  by  in  dance  and  song ; 
There,  martyr-like,  I'm  sure  to  be, 
Though  to  venture  there  may  be  death  to  me. 
Yet  I  'm  never  afraid  of  catching  cold 
(Like  some  young  ladies)  however  bold. 
'T  is  a  wonder  my  mother  should  let  me  go, 
But  she  is  remarkably  yielding,  I  know ; 
And  many  who  tried  us  both  can  say, 
She  yields  directly  when  I  give  way. 
My  character's  quite  the  more  solid,  I  state, 
But  she  is  a  person  of  greater  weight. 
Though  never  convicted  of  any  crime 
'T  is  perfectly  true  that,  for  months  at  a  time, 
I  am  starved  in  a  dungeon  all  damp  and  bare, 
With  hardly  the  half  of  a  prisoner's  fare. 
I'm  rather  a  traveller,  I  may  tell, 
And  know  the  Atlantic  routes  quite  well ; 


ENIGMA  NO.  1 6.  253 


Sometimes  on  my  own  account  I  go, 

Sometimes  whether  I  will  or  no. 

When  will  ye  seek  me  ?     The  sultry  glow 

Of  a  summer  noon  is  the  time,  I  trow, 

When  the  burning  pavement  and  dusty  street 

Make  you  long  for  a  rest  for  your  aching  feet. 

I  have  done  in  my  time  some  wonderful  things  ; 

Have  been  made  the  dwelling-place  of  kings  ; 

Have  baffled  the  general's  proud  careering  ; 

Have  outdone  Stephenson's  engineering. 

I  nevertheless  can  condescend 

To  Monsieur  Soyer  my  aid  to  lend  ; 

Or,  better  still,  can  bring  mirth  and  joy 

To  the  heart  of  the  sturdy  village  boy. 


Primeval  woods  my  parent's  birth 
Beheld,  where  no  loud  axe  was  heard, 
Where  through  a  solitary  earth 
No  voice  the  leafy  echoes  stirred  ;. 

But  I  was  born  in  gloominess  profound, 

In  sable  swaddling  clothes  the  child  of  light  was  bound. 

Released  at  length  by  human  skill. 

From  long  confinement  forth  I  sped, 

And  in  each  city's  highway  still 

I  linger  far  beneath  your  tread  ; 
Though  there  are  times  when,  grovelling  thus  no  more, 
Beyond  the  clouds  of  earth,  a  prisoner  still,  I  soar. 


254  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 

No  eye  my  subtle  form  may  see, 

Till,  coming  forth  to  light, 

A  slow  consumption  wasteth  me 

In  man's  unpitying  sight. 
Yet  when  from  durance  vile  I  swift  escape, 
All  feel  my  baleful  presence,  though  none  see  my  shape. 


I  smile  upon  the  giddy  scene 

Of  mirth,  and  revelry,  and  song  ; 

Yet  in  the  sacred  courts  have  been 

Devotion's  handmaid  long ; 
With  darkness  waging  constant  strife  and  sure, 
I  ever  shun  the  day-beams  though  so  bright  and  pure. 


Though  none  have  ever  heard  my  voice, 
Yet  words  of  gladness  traced  in  me 
Have  bid  full  many  a  heart  rejoice, 
When  England's  flag  waved  high  and  free. 
And  with  the  song  of  victory  sweetly  blended 
The  full  deep  hymn  of  praise  that  war's  dark  storm  was 
ended. 


I  ,.\M  the  child  of  the  brightest  thing 
Which  may  gladden  mortal  eyes, 
Yet  tlie  silent  sweep  of  my  dusky  wing 
Over  my  mother  may  dimness  fling, 
And  smiling  she  faints  and  dies. 


ENIGMA  NO.  1 8.  2  ■55 


I  move,  I  dance,  I  fall,  I  fly, 

Yet  anon  I  may  calmly  sleep  ; 
I  mark  the  bright-winged  hours  flit  by, 
Your  ingenuity  perhaps  I  try ; 

I  am  long,  or  short,  or  deep. 

I  have  been  hailed  as  a  boon  untold, 
Or  dreaded  and  shunned  ere  now ; 
The  earth  in  my  wide  embrace  I  fold, 
The  mountain  regions  are  my  stronghold. 
Yet  I  steadily  follow  the  plough. 

I  may  rest  a  while  in  the  minster  pile, 

Or  beneath  the  old  oak  tree ; 
Often  with  trackless  step  I  pass 
O'er  the  whispering  corn  and  the  waving  grass- 

Or  tread  the  changeful  sea. 

All  the  day  through  I  follow  you, 

Yet  beware  how  you  follow  me ; 
For  each  child  of  man  I  may  oft  beguile, 
And  cloud  the  light  of  his  sunniest  smile, 

Till  for  ever  away  I  flee. 


Yp:  have  seen  me  in  the  skies, 
Yet  beneath  the  ground  I  ri?e : 
Sometimes  far  above  your  head. 
Sometimes  deep  below  your  tread. 


2S6  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 

Where  the  forest  boughs  entwine, 
Baffling  still  the  gay  sunshine  ; 
Gaze  aloft,  and  you  will  see 
.  In  myself  their  tracery. 

Laughing  eye  and  dimpling  smile 
May  be  even  me  awhile  ; 
Playful  words,  like  javelins  thrown, 
As  myself  you  often  own. 

Many  a  sunny  stream  ye  trace, 
Rippling  in  my  calm  embrace  \ 
Still  I  watch  the  secret  shrine 
Of  the  rich  and  ruddy  wine. 

Nave,  and  choir,  and  aisle,  I  trovvj 
All  to  me  their  glories  owe  ; 
Even  a  seraph  form  by  me, 
Greater,  fairer  yet  may  be. 

Many  a  loved  one  may  be  laid 
In  my  sadly  solemn  shade  ; 
On  your  brow  I  now  may  dwell, 
While  your  lips  my  name  will  tell. 


]£ntaina  IRo.  19. 

Sav,  know  ye  not  the  pilgrim  band^ 
Who  wander  far  and  wide, 

And  greeting  find  in  every  land 
Wherever  they  abide  ? 


ENIGMA  NO.  19.  257 


They  meet  full  many  a  friend  I  wot, 
Who  fain  would  have  them  stay  ; 

To  such  they  cling,  and  leave  them  not, 
Yet  still  go  on  their  way. 

Each  bears  a  staff  and  often  twain, 
And  need  they  many  a  rest ; 

The  oldest  oft  seems  young  again, 
And  perhaps  we  love  them  best. 

They  speak  a  language  passing  sweet, 
With  heart-lore  richly  fraught ; 

But  oh  !  to  some  they  daily  meet 
Their  eloquence  is  nought. 

Yet  strange  the  laws  their  speech  obeys, 

Who  drink  its  mystic  tone 
May  find  within  each  simplest  phrase 

A  meaning  all  their  own. 

Some  deem  they  tell  of  long  past  years. 
When  they  were  girls  and  boys  ; 

Some  only  hear  of  bygone  tears. 
And  some  of  present  joys. 

Some  hear  them  speak  of  One  who  sent 
That  welcome  pilgrim  band, 

And  bless  the  love  that  freely  lent 
Such  boon  to  every  land. 


25S  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 


Bnigma  mo,  20. 

Oh,  haughty  Thebes  !     In  shadowy  days  of  yore, 
Where  history  faintly  blends  with  mythologic  lore, 
I  was  thy  hidden  terror,  yet,  revealed, 
I  traced  a  stain  of  woe  upon  thy  glittering  shield. 

Fair  Palestine  !  I  was  put  forth  in  thee 
Amid  a  scene  of  gay  festivity  ; 
Yet  brought  by  me  a  sullen  frown,  I  ween, 
Was  on  the  brow  of  my  originator  seen. 

'T  is  mine  to  give  thee  strange  and  needless  toil, 
For  Gordian  knots  I  weave  in  many  a  tangled  coil 
I  shun  publicity,  for  I  declare, 
That  if  you  speak  my  name,  I  vanish  into  air. 


Bnfgma  IRo.  21. 

Though  constantly  we  're  in  the  mire, 
We  shine  and  sparkle  with  our  fire  ; 
Part  of  the  verb  '  to  speak  '  we  need, 
And  yet  no  words  from  us  proceed. 
The  annals  of  the  Inquisition 
Reveal  too  well  our  awful  mission ; 
In  what  they  call  the  '  good  old  days,' 
Our  patronesses  won  high  praise. 
It  is  our  business  to  convey 
Men,  beasts,  and  chattels  day  by  day  \ 
You  often  bear  us  near  your  heart. 
And  would  be  loth  from  us  to  part. 


CHARADE  NO.  2.  259 


Though  never  weary  with  our  speed, 
Full  often  we  are  tired  indeed ; 
A  tribe  of  insects,  most  minute, 
Receive  from  us  a  name  to  suit. 
Long  since  we  used  to  condescend 
Our  aid  in  cookery  to  lend. 
We  guide  the  vessel  in  its  course, 
And  multiply  your  puny  force. 


GbaraC)e  IRo.  !♦ 

The  veiling  shades  of  night  departed, 

On  Lebanon's  heights  was  a  rosy  glow, 
When  the  serried  ranks  of  the  Lion-hearted 

Prepared  for  ray  first  at  the  Moslem  foe. 
A  voice  was  heard,  like  a  clarion  proud. 

Forth,  forth  to  battle,  to  glory  go  ! 
To  my  lovely  second  I  solemnly  vowed 

To  crush  the  insolent  Moslem  foe. 
And  forth  they  went,  but  the  voice  was  stilled,- 

A  stroke  of  my  whole  had  laid  him  low  ; 
By  other  hands  was  the  vow  fulfilled, 

For  they  tamed  the  pride  of  the  Moslem  foe. 


Cbarabe  1Ro,  2. 

Wy  first  gleams  bright  'mid  azure  shields, 
On  rich  emblazoned  argent  fields. 
If  you  too  often  use  my  second, 
An  egotist  you  will  be  reckoned. 


26o  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 

My  third,  it  is  a  battle-cry  ; 
And  be  it  yours  in  every  high, 
And  good,  and  noble  end  and  aim, 
As  such  it  is  the  road  to  fame. 
My  belted  whole  you  may  descry 
Illumining  the  southern  sky. 


Cbarabe  IRo.  3, 

From  his  ruby  pavilion  Phoebus  arose, 
And  looked  down  from  his  shining  j^r^'/, 

And  the  earth  at  his  glance,  from  her  calm  repost 
Into  beauty  and  gladness  burst, 

But  the  clouds  of  sorrow  he  could  not  chase, 

Nor  the  gleaming  tears  upon  Katie's  face. 

On  a  merry  ride  to  the  busy  town 

In  m.y  Jirst  she  too  surely  had  reckoned, 

Disappointed  and  angry  she  flung  herself  down 
On  my  whole :  but  alas,  in  my  second ; 

So  I  told  her,  my  second  you  never  can  be 

While  such  haughty  tempers  so  often  I  see. 


Cbara^e  1Ro»  4^ 

Hurrah  for  merry  England  ! 

For  good  Saint  George  hurrah  I 
For  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart, 

The  noble  and  the  gay. 


I 


CHARADE  NO.  4.  261 


Returns  from  long  captivity, 
And  't  is  a  festal  day. 

With  chivalry  and  minstrelsy 
The  hours  shall  speed  along, 

Where  meet  the  beauteous  and  the  brave, 
The  gentle  and  the  strong. 

(I  would  ray  first  had  gazed  upon 
The  gladly  loyal  throng.) 

The  warriors  of  Palestine, 

Who  led  my  secotid  well 
When  on  the  ranks  of  Saladin 

Like  avalanche  they  fell, 
Now  in  the  tournament  alone 

A  fancied  foe  repel. 

The  Saxon  serf  may  lay  aside 

His  clumsy  third,  I  trow; 
And  leave  it  in  the  silent  field, 

With  cool  and  sweadess  brow ; 
For  what  has  he  to  do  to-day 

With  weary  spade  and  plough  ? 

But  who  is  he,  the  Saxon  youth, 

With  royal  Saxon  bride, 
Who  Saracen  and  Templar  hath 

Successfully  defied  ? 
He  is  my  famous  whole,  I  ween, 

The  valiant  and  the  tried. 


262  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 


CbaraDe  1Ro.  5. 

My  second  could  never  produce  ray  first, 
Though  its  opposite  frequently  may ; 
'Tis  a  thing  that's  trampled  upon  and  cursed, 
So  tell  me  its  name,  I  pray. 

In  my  whole  both  my  second  and  first  you  would  see, 
With  more  of  the  latter  than  pleasant ; 
A  treat  I  consider  this  latter  to  be, 
Though,  like  all  earthly  good,  evanescent. 

Above  my  second  't  is  commonly  borne, 
Though  carefully  kept  below  it ; 
Full  many  a  home  it  has  caused  to  mourn. 
And  the  newspaper  accidents  show  it. 

When  my  second  is  looking  its  dullest  and  worst, 

And  my  whole  must  be  dreary  indeed, 

Like  a  hard-hearted  tyrant  comes  forth  rny  first,  i 

With  whom  it  were  vain  to  plead. 


CbataDe  IRo.  6* 

Where  the  tall  pine-forest  made 
Deepest,  darkest,  holiest  shade, 
Came  Nesota,  sorrow-laden, 
She,  the  lovely  Indian  maiden. 
Came,  ere  she  had  waited  long, 
Karanb,  the  swift,  the  strong ; 


CHARADE  NO.  6.  263 


He,  who  bowed  to  nought  beside, 

Bent  to  her  in  lowly  pride ; 

Bent,  until  his  lofty  brow, 

Loftiest  of  the  tribes  around. 

Touched  the  greensward  hallowed  now, 

Where  her  first  had  kissed  the  ground. 

'  Karano  !  arise  and  fly ! 
Hands  of  power  and  wrath  are  nigh, 
From  thy  side  shall  I  be  driven, 
Like  a  willow  lightning-riven. 
Karano,  ere  thou  depart, 
Lay  this  second  on  thy  heart, 
Token  of  Nesota's  love. 
From  thy  own,  thy  stricken  dove.' 
Trembling  in  his  hand  she  laid 
My  shining  second,  then  farewell ! 
She  is  gone,  through  bush  and  blade, 
Fleetly  as  a  wild  gazelle, 

Karano,  the  swift,  the  strong, 
Baffles  all  pursuers  long, 
Till  the  moon  is  on  the  wane ; 
Then  a  red  deer  they  have  slain. 
To  the  treacherous  banquet  led, 
When  the  new  moon's  feast  is  spreads 
They  have  mingled  in  his  bowl, 
Secretly,  my  deadly  whole. 
Karanb  hath  found  repose 
Where  my  whole  doth  darkly  wave, 
And  the  tall  pine-forests  close 
O'er  Nesota's  quiet  grave. 


264  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 


Cbarabe  IFlo.  ?♦ 

My  whole,  the  poet  of  flood  and  fell, 

Of  valley  and  breezy  hill, 
Has  passed  from  the  scenes  he  loved  so  well, 

And  none  his  place  may  fill. 
In  Yivi  first,  with  their  simple  and  childlike  gracCi 

Of  his  second  an  index  all  may  trace. 


CbaraC)e  IRo,  $♦ 

Soon  the  hour  of  dawn  shall  pass, 
Clear  and  loud  the  lark  is  singing ; 
Swiftly  through  the  waving  grass 
Now  my  bright-eyed  _;f;'5/  is  springing. 


Down  the  still  and  shadowy  dale 
Floats  my  second,  sweetly  telling, 
*  Morning  lifts  her  misty  veil, 
Spectral  darkness  soon  dispelling.' 


Far  remote  from  beaten  way,  j 

Now  my  dewy  whole  is  bending ;  ^ 
And  where  summer  breezes  play 

Sweetness  to  their  breath  is  lending,  d 


CHARADE  NO.  lo.  265 


Cbara&e  IRo.  9. 

Distant  from  the  noisy  town 
Sits  my  first  and  next  alone, 
In  my  ivy-wreathen  whole, 
Loved  and  blessed  by  many  a  soul. 

More  than  on  ray  first,  I  ween, 
With  his  brethren  he  hath  been ; 
But  my  third  hath  touched  his  brov/, 
And  he  waits  in  silence  now ; 

Hoping  soon  to  see  the  day 
When  his  second,  far  away, 
May  replace  his  trembling  voice  : 
This  shall  make  his  third  rejoice. 


Cbara^e  IRo.  10. 

Mv  first  dwells  in  the  torrid  zone, 
Its  beauty  and  its  boon. 

Yet  this  the  Esquimaux  must  own 
Beneath  an  Arctic  moon. 

He  who  would  do  it  is  untrue, 
Though  all  in  every  land 

To  bear  it  off  in  strife  desire, 
It  always  is  at  hand. 

My  first  and  next  in  days  of  yore 
Went  forth  in  lowly  guise  : 


266  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 

A  staff  was  theirs,  but  little  store 
Of  what  the  world  would  prize. 

Yet  one,  alas  !  in  later  days, 
With  murder  on  his  brow. 

Revealed  how  far  in  guilty  ways 
A  child  of  earth  may  go. 

My  last  I  think  you'll  quickly  name 
In  half  a  minute  more ; 

Are  twenty  hundreds  quite  the  same 
As  just  a  hundred  score? 

For  if  you  say  what  each  would  be, 
The  name  you  will  have  got  \ 

And  yet,  reversing,  you  will  see 
That  surely  it  is  not. 

My  whole  I  leave  without  debate, 
For  't  is  not  woman's  mission 

To  criticise  the  wise  and  great 
And  play  the  politician. 


Awake,  ye  sleepers ! 
My  Jirst  hath  sung  his  loud  reveille, 
And  wakened  through  the  glistening  dale 

The  early  reapers. 

Why  will  ye  linger  i 
is  it  no  second  that  ve  hear 


CHARADE  NO.  13.  267 


The  morning  hymn,  so  glad  and  clear, 
Of  that  wise  singer  ? 

Come  forth,  nor  tarry ! 
And  track  the  busy-winged  bee. 
Who  from  my  wJiole  right  joyously 

Sweet  spoil  doth  carry. 

Cbarabe  1Ro.  12. 

Arise,  my  first  I     In  peerless  radiance  beaming, 
A  veil  of  glory  thou  dost  weave  for  earth  : 
The  ocean  waves  to  welcome  thee  are  gleaming, 
For  thou  alone  to  Beauty  givest  birth. 

Shine  forth,  my  second!     Freshly  now  is  flowing 
The  busy  stream  of  life,  and  labour  too ; 
Each  heart  with  ardour,  base  or  noble  glowing. 
Till  thou  shalt  close,  arresting  all  they  do. 

All  hail,  my  whole  !  thou  comest  with  rich  pleasure 
An  angel  from  the  land  of  pure  delight. 
The  great  man's  blessing,  and  the  poor  man's  treasure, 
Our  earnest  of  the  day  which  knows  no  night. 

Cbara^e  IRo.  13. 

Mm  first  had  spread  her  darksome  wing 
O'er  all  the  loveliness  of  spring  j 
My  third  arose  with  mournful  wail — 
The  young  leaves  told  their  first  sad  tale, 


268  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 


The  old  oak  groaned,  the  flowerets  sighed^ 
The  hawthorn  bloom  was  scattered  wide  : 
But  ere  my  gloomy  y^r^/  had  passed, 
When  silent  was  my  third  at  last, 
My  whole  awoke  the  moonlight  dell 
To  list  the  sweet  tale  she  could  tell ; 
Then  mingled,  in  strange  harmony, 
Silence  and  sweetest  melody. 
'Your  secofid,  why  such  strange  omission?' 
'T  is  but  a  tiny  preposition. 

CbaraDe  IRo.  14* 

Heard  ye  the  long,  low  roar 

Blend  with  the  sea-mew's  cry? 

Saw  ye  the  nearing  shore 

Where  the  white  foam-wreaths  lie  ? 
O  wait,  seaman,  wait  while  the  tempest  shall  last, 
For  ray  first  is  a  danger  thou  hast  not  passed. 

How  shall  the  seaman  wait  ? 

There  stands  his  white-walled  home, 

From  its  blithely  opened  gate 

Never  more  need  he  roam. 
My  second  he  brings  from  a  distant  realm, 
And  leaves  he  for  ever  the  weary  helm. 

On  !  for  the  tide  ebbs  fast ! 
On  !  for  the  night  grows  dark, 
But  the  cold  wave-arms  are  cast 
Round  the  seaman's  sinking  bark. 
He  makes  my  whole  with  the  angry  sea,—* 
Thine  be  the  gold,  so  my  life  go  free  1 


CHARADE  NO.  16.  269 


CbaraDe  1Ro.  15. 

My  whole  is  but  a  species  of  my  third, 

Yet  has  my  third  no  right  to  such  a  name 

Unless  my  first  and  second  form  a  word, 

To  which  he  lays  an  undisputed  claim ; 

But  if  my  whole  renounce  my  first  and  second, 

My  first  indeed  he  may,  but  not  my  whole,  be  reckoned. 


CbaratJC  Mo*  ia« 

The  all-victorious  Roman 
Hath  raised  his  eagles  high, 

The  Carthaginian  foeman 
Right  proudly  to  defy. 


Forth  marched  in  noble  daring 

The  leader  of  the  day, 
A  mighty  second  bearing 

In  all  the  stern  affray. 

Ye  glorious  ranks,  assemble  1 
'  Push  on,  my  first,'  he  cried, 

*  And  soon  their  7(.>hole  shall  tremble, 
And  crushed  shall  be  their  pride.' 


270  ENIGMAS  AND  CHARADES. 


Cbarat)e  1Ro.  17* 

Enter  my  first  with  a  studied  grace, 
Conceit  in  his  head,  and  a  smirk  on  his  face ; 
Of  fashion  he  deems  himself  quite  the  top, 
And  he's  scented  hke  any  perfumer's  shop  ; 
So  among  the  ladies  he's  surely  reckoned, 
For  the  evening  at  least,  to  be  quite  my  second. 
But  oh !  what  a  fall  for  the  brilliant  star  1 
A  lady's  whisper  is  heard  too  far : 
'  Of  all  the  flowers  that  ever  were, 
The  only  one  I  to  him  compare 
Is  my  scentless  whole,  with  its  gaudy  stare/ 
Not  quite  rightly  spelt,  but  comparison  rare 


CbaraDe  1Ro»  1S» 

A  BRIGHT  and  joyous  frame  of  mindj 
With  Cephas  properly  combined. 


Produce,  I'll  boldly  dare  to  say, 
A  statesman  of  the  present  day. 


I 


Chords  for  Children. 


SUNDA  V  BELLS.  7-ji 


O  SWEET  Sabbath  bells ! 

A  message  of  musical  chiming 
Ye  bring  us  from  God,  and  we  know  what  you  say ; 

Now  rising,  now  falling, 

So  tunefully  calling 
His  children  to  seek  Him,  and  praise  Him  to-day. 


The  day  we  love  best ! 

The  brightest  and  best  of  the  seven, 
The  pearl  of  the  week,  and  the  light  of  our  way ; 

We  hold  it  a  treasure. 

And  count  it  a  pleasure, 
To  welcome  its  dawning  and  praise  Him  to-day. 


O  sweet  Sabbath  rest ! 

The  gift  of  our  Father  in  heaven ; 
A  herald  sent  down  from  the  home  far  away, 

With  peace  for  the  weary, 

And  joy  for  the  dreary  : 
Then,  oh !  let  us  thank  Him,  and  praise  Him  to-day. 

}  From  '  Sacred  Songs  for  Little  Singers.'    Novello  &.  Co. 

s 


274  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


Rejoice  and  be  glad ! 

'T  is  the  day  of  our  Saviour  and  Brother, 
The  Life  that  is  risen,  the  Truth  and  the  Way ; 

Salvation  He  brought  us 

When  wand'ring  He  sought  us, 
With  blood  He  hath  bought  us  :  then  praise  Him  to-day , 


Buds  and  bells  !     Sweet  April  pleasures, 

Springing  all  around, 
White  and  gold  and  crimson  treasures, 

From  the  cold,  unlovely  ground  ! 
He  who  gave  them  grace  and  hue 

Made  the  little  children  too ! 


When  the  weary  little  flowers 

Close  their  starry  eyes. 
By  the  dark  and  dewy  hours 

Strength  and  freshness  God  supplies. 
He  who  sends  the  gentle  dew 

Cares  for  httle  children  too  ! 


Then  He  gives  the  pleasant  weather, 

Sunshine  warm  and  free, 
Making  all  things  glad  together, 

Kind  to  them  and  kind  to  me. 
Lovely  flowers  !  He  loveth  you, 

And  the  little  children  too ! 


E  VENING  PR  A  YER.  275 


Though  we  cannot  hear  you  singing 

Softly  chiming  lays, 
Surely  God  can  see  you  bringing 

Silent  songs  of  wordless  praise ! 
Hears  your  anthem,  sweet  and  true, 

Hears  the  little  children  too  1 


Bvenlng  prater. 

Now  the  light  has  gone  away, 
Saviour,  listen  while  I  pray, 
Asking  Thee  to  watch  and  keep, 
And  to  send  me  quiet  sleep. 

Jesus,  Saviour,  wash  away 

All  that  has  been  wrong  to-day, 

Help  me  every  day  to  be 

Good  and  gentle,  more  like  Thee. 

Let  my  near  and  dear  ones  be 
Always  near  and  dear  to  Thee ; 
Oh,  bring  me  and  all  I  love 
To  Thy  happy  home  above  ! 

Now  my  evening  praise  I  give  : 
Thou  didst  die  that  I  might  live. 
All  my  blessings  come  from  Thee  ; 
Oh,  how  good  Thou  art  to  me  ! 

Thou,  my  best  and  kindest  Friend, 
Thou  wilt  love  me  to  the  end  ! 
Let  me  love  Thee  more  and  more. 
Always  better  than  before ! 


270  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


Stars. 

The  golden  glow  is  paling 

Between  the  cloudy  bars  ; 
I'm  watching  in  the  twilight 

To  see  the  little  stars, 
I  wish  that  they  would  sing  to-night 

Their  song  of  long  ago ;  ^ 
If  we  were  only  nearer  them, 

What  might  we  hear  and  know  1 

Are  they  the  eyes  of  Angels, 

That  always  wake  to  keep 
A  loving  watch  above  us, 

While  we  are  fast  asleep  ? 
Or  are  they  lamps  that  God  has  lit 

From  His  own  glorious  light, 
To  guide  the  little  children's  souls 

Whom  He  will  call  to-night  ? 

We  hardly  see  them  twinkle 

In  any  summer  night, 
But  in  the  winter  evenings 

They  sparkle  clear  and  bright. 
Is  this  to  tell  the  little  ones, 

So  hungry,  cold,  and  sad. 
That  there 's  a  shining  home  for  them, 

Where  all  is  warm  and  glad  ? 

'  •  When  the  morning  stars  sang  together.' — Job  xxxviii.  7. 


MY  LITTLE  TREE.  ZTI 

More  beautiful  and  glorious, 

And  never  cold  and  far, 
Is  He  who  always  loves  them, 

The  Bright  and  Morning  Star. 
I  wish  those  little  children  knew 

That  holy,  happy  light  ! 
Lord  Jesus,  shine  on  them,  I  pray, 

And  make  them  glad  to-night. 


/1D\?  Xlttle  Uree. 

They  tell  me  that  my  little  tree 

Is  only  just  my  age,  but  see, — 

Already  ripe  and  rosy  fruit 

Is  peeping  under  every  shoot ! 

How  little  have  I  brought. 

But  withered  leaves  of  foolish  thought ; 

And  angry  words,  like  thorn. 

How  many  have  I  borne  ! 


No  fruit  my  little  tree  can  bring 
Without  the  gentle  rain  of  spring ; 
Nor  could  it  ever  ripen  one, 
Without  the  glowing  summer  sun  : 
O  Father  !  shed  on  me 
Thy  Holy  Spirit  from  above, 
That  I  may  bring  to  Thee 
The  golden  fruit  of  love. 


278  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 

Let  sunshine  of  Thy  grace  increase 
The  pleasant  fruit  of  joy  and  peace, 
With  purple  gleam  of  gentleness, 
That  most  of  all  my  home  may  bless ; 
While  faith  and  goodness  meet 
In  ruby  ripeness  rich  and  sweet, 
Let  these  in  me  be  found, 
And  evermore  abound. 


Ub^  IRinobom  Come. 

God  of  heaven  !  hear  our  singing ; 

Only  little  ones  are  we, 
Yet  a  great  petition  bringing, 

Father,  now  we  come  to  Thee. 

Let  Thy  kingdom  come,  we  pray  Thee^. 

Let  the  world  in  Thee  find  rest ; 
Let  all  know  Thee,  and  obey  Thee, 

Loving,  praising,  blessing,  blessed  1 

Let  the  sweet  and  joyful  story 
Of  the  Saviour's  wondrous  love, 

Wake  on  earth  a  song  of  glory, 
Like  the  angel's  song  above. 

Father,  send  the  glorious  hour. 
Every  heart  be  Thine  alone  ! 

For  the  kingdom,  and  the  power, 
And  the  glory  are  Thine  owa 


JESSIE'S  FRIEND.  279 


*  The  moon  walking  in  brightness.' — Job  xxxi.  2G. 

Not  long  ago  the  moon  was  dark, 

No  light  she  gave  or  gained  ; 
She  did  not  look  upon  the  sun, 

So  all  her  glory  waned. 
Now  through  the  sky  so  broad  and  high, 

In  robe  of  shining  whiteness. 
Among  the  solemn  stars  of  God, 

She  walks  in  brightness. 

Look  up  to  Him  who  is  the  Sun, 

The  true  and  Only  Light, 
And  seek  the  glory  of  His  face, 

His  smile  so  dear  and  bright 
Then  making  gladness  all  around. 

By  gentleness  and  rightness, 
You,  too,  shall  shine  with  light  divine, 

And  walk  in  brightness. 


Jessie's  ifrien^ 

Little  Jessie,  darling  pet, 

Do  you  want  a  Friend  ? 
One  who  never  will  forget. 

Loving  to  the  end  ; 
One  whom  you  can  tell  when  sad 

Everything  that  grieves ; 
One  who  loves  to  make  you  glad, 

One  who  never  leaves. 


2So  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 

Such  a  loving  Friend  is  ours, 

Near  us  all  the  day, 
Helping  us  in  lesson  hours, 

Smiling  on  our  play  ; 
Keeping  us  from  doing  wrong, 

Guarding  everywhere, 
Listening  to  each  happy  song 

And  each  little  prayer. 

Jessie,  if  you  only  knew 

What  He  is  to  me. 
Surely  you  would  seek  Him  too. 

You  would  '  come  and  see.' 
Come,  and  you  will  find  it  true, 

Happy  you  will  be  ; 
Jesus  says,  and  says  to  you, 

'  Come,  oh  come  to  Mc.' 


Wat  :Bower» 

Will  you  come  out  and  see 

My  pretty  bower  with  me, 
Aly  sweet  little  house  that  lilac  boughs  have  made ; 

With  windows  up  on  high. 

Through  which  I  see  the  sky. 
And  look  up  to  Him  who  made  the  pleasant  shade  ? 

The  sunbeams  come  and  go 
So  brightly  to  and  fro, 
Like  angels  of  light,  too  dazzling  to  be  seen  1 


TRUST.  28i 

They  weave  a  curtain  fair 
About  my  doorway  there, 
And  paint  all  my  walls  with  shining  gold  and  green. 

I  have  sweet  music  too, 

And  lovely  songs  for  you, 
To  hear  in  my  house  among  the  lilac  leaves ; 

For  breezes  softly  play, 

And  robins  sing  all  day  : 
1  think  this  is  praise  that  God  on  high  receives. 


Urust. 

Sadly  bend  the  flowers 

In  the  heavy  rain ; 
After  beating  showers, 

Sunbeams  come  again. 
Little  birds  are  silent 

All  the  dark  night  through  ; 
When  the  morning  dawneth, 

Their  songs  are  sweet  and  new. 

When  a  sudden  sorrow 

Comes  hke  cloud  and  night, 
Wait  for  God's  to-morrow ; 

All  will  then  be  bright. 
Only  wait  and  trust  Him 

Just  a  little  while  ; 
After  evening  tear-drojjs 

Shall  come  the  morning  smile. 


a82  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


'CTbe  B^tno  Sister, 

Darling  boy, 

Sister's  joy, 
With  your  loving  smile, 

Kiss  me  now, 

On  my  brow, 
Stay  with  me  awhile ! 
He  who  has  lovbd  me. 
He  whom  I  longed  to  see, 

Calls  me  away ; 

I  must  not  stay. 

He  is  near. 
True  and  dear. 
Darling,  do  not  cry  I 
Jesus  too 
Loveth  you. 
Loves  you  more  than  I. 
Kneel  by  my  pillow  here. 
Tell  Him  the  sorrow,  dear  j 
He  is  so  kind. 
This  you  will  find. 

Angels  bright, 

Robed  in  light, 
In  that  happy  home, 

Singing  wait 

At  the  gate, 
Till  He  bids  me  come. 


THE  ANGELS'  SONG.  283 

Soon,  brother,  I  shall  see 
Him  who  has  died  for  me ; 

I  am  so  glad, 

Yet  you  are  sad. 

Hymn  and  prayer 

We  did  share, 
Many  an  evening  past ; 

Jesus  heard 

Every  word, 
This  may  be  the  last. 
Ere  next  the  light  grows  dim, 
I  may  be  there  with  Him. 

Praising  Him  too, 

Waiting  for  you ! 


Ube  Hn^els'  Song* 

Now  let  us  sing  the  Angels'  Song, 
That  rang  so  sweet  and  clear, 

When  heavenly  light  and  music  fell 
On  earthly  eye  and  ear, — 

To  Him  we  sing,  our  Saviour  King, 
Who  always  deigns  to  hear  : 

'  Glory  to  God  !  and  peace  on  earth.' 

He  came  to  tell  the  Father's  love, 
His  goodness,  truth,  and  grace ; 

To  show  the  brightness  of  His  smile, 
The  glory  of  His  face ; 


284  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 

With  His  own  light,  so  full  and  bright, 
The  shades  of  death  to  chase. 

'  Glory  to  God  !  and  peace  on  earths' 

He  came  to  bring  the  weary  ones 

True  peace  and  perfect  rest ; 
To  take  away  the  guilt  and  sin 

Which  darkened  and  distressed; 
That  great  and  small  might  hear  His  call, 

And  all  in  Him  be  blessed. 

'  Glory  to  God  !  and  peace  on  earth>,' 

He  came  to  bring  a  glorious  gift, 
'  Goodwill  to  men  3 ' — and  why  ? 

Because  He  loved  us,  Jesus  came 
For  us  to  live  and  die. 

Then,  sweet  and  long,  the  Angels'  Song 
Again  we  raise  on  high  : 

'  Glory  to  God  !  and  peace  on  earth.' 

Mbo  will  tafte  Care  ot  /llbe? 

WRITTEN  FOR   EMILY   F.    W.    W.    SNEPP. 

Who  will  take  care  of  me  ?  darling,  you  say  ! 

Lovingly,  tenderly  watched  as  you  are  ! 
Listen  !  I  give  you  the  answer  to-day, 

ONE  who  is  never  forgetful  or  far  ! 

He  will  take  care  of  you  !  all  through  the  day, 
Jesus  is  near  you  to  keep  you  from  ill; 

Walking  or  resting,  at  lessons  or  play, 
Jesus  is  with  you  and  watching  you  stilL 


SOMETHING  TO  DO.  285 


He  will  take  care  of  you  !  all  through  the  night, 
Jesus,  the  Shepherd,  His  Uttle  one  keeps ; 

Darkness  to  Him  is  the  same  as  the  light ; 
He  never  slumbers  and  He  never  sleeps. 

He  will  take  care  of  you !  all  through  the  year, 
Crowning  each  day  with  His  kindness  and  love, 

Sending  you  blessing  and  shielding  from  fear, 
Leading  you  on  to  the  bright  home  above. 

He  will  take  care  of  you !  yes,  to  the  end  ! 

Nothing  can  alter  His  love  to  His  own. 
Darling,  be  glad  that  you  have  such  a  Friend, 

He  will  not  leave  you  one  moment  alone ! 


Sometbino  to  5)o. 

•  Something  to  do,  mamma,  something  to  do  ! ' 

Who  has  not  heard  the  cry? 

Something  to  plan  and  something  to  try ! 
Something  to  do  when  the  sky  is  blue. 

And  the  sun  is  clear  and  high ; 
Something  to  do  on  a  rainy  day, 
Tired  of  lessons  or  tired  of  play  ; 
Something  to  do  in  the  morning  walk. 
Better  than  merely  to  stroll  and  talk. 
For  the  fidgety  feet,  oh,  something  to  do, 
For  the  mischievous  fingers  something  too ; 
For  the  busy  thought  in  the  little  brain. 

For  the  longing  love  of  the  little  heart. 
Something  easy,  and  nice,  and  plain ; 

Something  in  which  they  can  all  take  part; 


286  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 

Something  better  than  breakable  toys, 
Something  for  girls  and  something  for  boys  ! 
I  know,  I  know,  and  I'll  tell  you  too, 
Something  for  all  of  you  now  to  do ! 


First,  you  must  listen  !     Do  you  know 
Where  the  poor  sick  children  go  ? 
Think  of  hundreds  all  together 
In  the  pleasant  summer  weather, 
Lying  sadly  day  by  day, 
Having  pain  instead  of  play ; 
No  dear  mother  sitting  near, 

No  papa  to  kiss  good-night ; 
Brothers,  sisters,  playmates  dear, 

All  away  and  out  of  sight. 
Little  feet  that  cannot  go 
Where  the  pink-tipped  daisies  grow ; 
Little  eyes  that  never  see 
Bud  or  blossom,  bird  or  tree ; 
Little  hands  that  folded  lie 
As  the  weary  weeks  go  by. 
What  if  you  could  send  them  flowers, 
Brightening  up  the  dismal  hours  ? 

Then  the  hospitals  for  others. 

For  the  fathers  and  the  mothers  ; 

Where  the  weary  sufferers  lie, 
While  the  weeks  go  slowly  past, 
Some  with  hope  of  cure  at  last, 

Some  to  suffer  till  they  die. 


SOMETHING  TO  DO.  287 

Now,  while  you  are  scampering  free, 
In  your  happy  spring-tide  glee. 
They  are  lying  sadly  there, 
Weak  and  sick — oh,  don't  you  care  ? 
Don't  you  want  to  cheer  each  one  ? 
Don't  you  wish  it  could  be  done  ? 

Then  the  poor  old  people  too, 

In  the  dreary  workhouse-room, 
Nothing  all  day  long  to  do, 

Nothing  to  light  up  the  gloom  ! 
Older,  weaker,  every  day. 
All  their  children  gone  away ; 
Nothing  pleasant,  nothing  bright. 
For  the  dimming,  aching  sight. 
Would  it  not  be  nice  to  send 
Nosegays  by  some  loving  friend  ? 

Then  if  you  could  only  see 

Where  so  many  thousands  live, 
All  in  sin  and  misery. 
Dirt  and  noise  and  poverty. 

What,  oh,  what  would  you  not  give, 
Just  some  little  thing  to  do 

That  might  do  a  little  good  ! 
Don't  you  want  to  help  them  too  ? 

I  will  tell  you  how  you  could  ! 
Gather  flowers  for  Jesus'  sake, 
For  a  loving  hand  to  take 
Into  all  those  dreadful  places, 
Bringing  smiles  to  haggard  faces, 


288  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 

Bringing  tears  to  hardened  eyes ; 

Bringing  back  the  memories 

Of  the  home  so  long  ago 

Left  for  wickedness  and  woe, 

Of  the  time,  so  far  away, 

When  they  learned  to  sing  and  pray. 

Oh,  you  cannot  guess  the  power 

Of  a  little  simple  flower ! 


And  yet  the  message  they  should  bear, 
Of  God  our  Father's  love  and  care. 
Is  never  really  read  aright 
Without  the  Holy  Spirit's  light ; — 
Without  the  voice  of  Jesus,  heard 
In  His  own  sweet  and  mighty  word. 
And  so  we  never  send  the  flowers 
With  only  messages  of  ours ; 
But  every  group  of  buds  and  bells 
The  story  of  salvation  tells. 
Let  every  little  nosegay  bring 
Not  only  fragrance  of  the  spring, 
But  sweeter  fragrance  of  His  Name, 

Who  saves  and  pardons,  soothes  and  heals, 
The  living  Saviour,  still  the  Same, 

AVho  every  pain  and  sorrow  feels. 
The  little  texts  are  sweeter  far 
Than  lily-bell  or  primrose  star ; 
And  He  will  help  you  just  to  choose 
The  very  words  that  He  will  use. 


SOMETHING  TO  DO.  289 

To  find  them  out  and  make  a  list 
Of  promise-words,  so  strong  and  bright, 
So  full  of  comfort  and  of  light, 

That  all  their  meaning  canH  be  missed ! 
Think  how  every  one  may  be 

God's  own  message  from  above 
To  some  little  girl  or  boy, 
Changing  sadness  into  joy, 
Soothing  some  one's  dreadful  pain, 
Making  some  one  glad  again. 

With  His  comfort  and  His  love ! 
CaUing  them  to  Jesus'  feet, 
Showing  them  what  He  has  done  1 
Darlings,  will  it  not  be  sweet 

If  He  blesses  only  one  ? 
Only  one  ?     Nay,  ask  Him  still. 

Ask  Him  every  one  to  bless  I 
He  can  do  it,  and  He  will ; 
Do  not  let  us  ask  Him  less  ! 


Now  then,  set  to  work  at  once, 
If  you're  not  a  thorough  dunce  ! 
Cut  the  little  holders  squarely, 

Keep  the  edges  smooth  and  straight : 
Now  the  paint-box :  artists  bold  ! 

Paint  the  borders  firm  and  fairly 
With  your  prettiest  red  or  gold  ! 

Easy  this,  at  any  rate. 
Now  for  writing — clearest,  neatest, 

(Or  it  may  be  gently  hinted. 

Better  still  if  neatly  printed.) 
Tracing  words  the  strongest,  svveetcs',, — 


290  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN: 

Words  that  must  and  will  avail, 
Though  the  loveliest  blossoms  fail. 
Then  away,  away,  the  first  fine  day ! 
Follow  the  breeze  that  is  out  at  play, 
Follow  the  bird  and  follow  the  bee, 
Follow  the  butterfly  flitting  free, 

For  I  think  they  know 
Where  the  sweetest  wildflowers  grow ; 
Bluebells  in  the  shady  dingle, 
Where  the  violet-odours  mingle ; 
Where  the  fairy  primrose  lamp 

Seems  to  light  the  hawthorn  shade ; 
Orchis  in  the  meadow  damp, 

Cowslip  in  the  sunny  glade. 
(But  not  the  pale  anemone, 
For  that  will  fade  so  speedily.) 
Hedge  and  coppice,  lane  and  field, 
Gather  all  the  store  they  yield ! 
Buttercups  and  daisies  too, 
Though  so  little  prized  by  you, 
Will  be  gold  and  silver  treasure. 
In  their  power  of  giving  pleasure 
To  the  poor  in  city  alleys, 
Far  away  from  hills  and  valleys, 
Who  have  never  seen  them  grow 
Since  their  childhood,  long  ago ; 
Or  to  children  pale  and  small, 
"Who  never  saw  them  grow  at  all ! 
And  don't  forget  the  fair  green  leaves 

That  have  their  own  sweet  tales  to  tell. 
And  waving  grass  that  humbly  weaves 

The  emerald  robe  of  bank  and  dell. 


LOVING  MESSAGES  FOR  THE  LITTLE  ONES.     291 


Is  there  some  one  at  home  who  cannot  go 

To  gather  the  flowers  as  they  grow  ? 

Then  there  is  plenty  for  her  to  do 

In  making  the  nosegays  up  for  you ; 

Getting  them  ready  to  travel  away, 

In  time  for  the  work  of  the  coming  day. 

But  oh,  how  busy  you  will  be 

When  the  packing  must  be  done  ! 
Oh,  the  bustle  and  the  glee, 

Will  it  not  be  famous  fun  ? 
And  when  the  box  is  gone  away. 

The  pleasure  need  not  all  be  past 

I  think  it  will  not  be  the  last  1 
Just  set  to  work  another  day ! 

And  send  some  more 

From  the  beautiful  store 
Which  God  keeps  sending  you  fresh  and  new, 

And  thank  Him  too 
That  He  has  given  you  *  Something  to  do  ! ' 


XoK'Km  /in^essaoes  tor  tbe  Xittle  ®nes.^ 

Every  little  flower  that  grows, 

Every  little  grassy  blade, 
Every  little  dewdrop,  shows 

Jesus  cares  for  all  He  made : 
Jesus  loves,  and  Jesus  knows ! 

So  you  need  not  be  afraid ! 

^  Six  floral  cards  for  Caswell. 


292  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


Fair  the  blossoms  opening  early ! 

For  the  dew 
Fell  upon  them,  cool  and  pearly, 
Brightening  every  hue. 
Like  a  little  thirsty  flower, 

Lift  your  face, 
Seek  the  gentle,  holy  shower 
Of  the  Spirit's  grace. 

>-»-« 

Grace  and  glory  !     They  are  yours 

Through  the  Saviour's  dying  love  J 
For  His  own  sweet  word  endures 
Longer  than  the  stars  above. 
It  shall  never  pass  away, 
So  trust  His  living  love  to-day. 
>-*-< 

Have  you  not  a  song  for  Jesus  ? 

All  the  little  buds  and  flowers, 
All  the  merry  birds  and  breezes, 

All  the  sunbeams  and  the  showers, 
Praise  Him  in  their  own  sweet  way  ! 
What  have  you  to  sing  to-day  ? 
Bring  your  happiest  songs,  and  sing 
For  your  Saviour  and  your  King. 
>-♦-< 

Knowing  Christ  was  crucified, 

Knowing  that  He  loves  you  now 

Just  as  much  as  when  He  died 

With  the  thorns  upon  His  brow, — 

Stay  and  think  !  oh,  should  not  you. 

Love  this  blessed  Saviour  too  ? 


F,  R.  H:S  thanks.  293 

Opening  flowers  I  send  to  you 
With  a  message  sweet  and  true. 
They  may  fade,  but  Jesus  lives, — 
Peace  and  grace  and  joy  He  gives. 
Come  to  Him  and  you  will  know 
What  He  waiteth  to  bestow  1 


3f»  TR.  Ib/s  Ubanfts. 


FOR  A   PENCIL-CASE  FROM  HER  BIBLE-CLASS. 


O  Thou  who  gatherest  with  loving  arm 

The  tender  lambs,  who  in  each  dark  alarm 

Wilt  fold  them  safely, — listen  to  my  prayer 

Borne  upwards  on  the  silent  morning  air ! 

O  Saviour,  e'en  to  these  extend  Thy  love. 

And  let  them  know  its  sweetness, — from  above 

Pour  down  on  them  Thy  Spirit's  quickening  showers 

That  they  may  flourish  as  sweet  heaven-born  flowers  ! 

O  let  Thy  smile  beam  on  them,  let  them  be 

For  ever  gladdened  with  its  radiancy  ! 

May  they  reflect  Thine  image  pure  and  bright 

As  burnished  silver,  spotless  in  Thy  sight ; 

Cleansed  by  Thy  blood  from  every  sinful  stain, 

Let  not  its  free  stream  pour  for  them  in  vain. 

When  Thou  in  glory  at  the  last  Great  Day 

Shalt  come,  when  earth  and  heaven  shall  flee  away, 

When,  waking  at  the  archangel's  clarion  sound, 

The  sleeping  ones  arise,  and  gather  round 

The  great  tribunal,  then  let  each  one  here 

At  Thy  right  hand  redeemed  and  saved  appear, 


294  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 

And  in  the  Book  of  Life  let  each  one  be 
Inscribed  as  in  eternal  lines  by  Thee ! 
O  Saviour,  let  each  name  be  written  there, 
Not  one  be  wanting  in  those  pages  gleaming  ! 
Hear,  Shepherd  of  the  lambs,  this  fervent  prayer, 
For  ever  be  Thy  blessings  o'er  them  streaming  ! 

WITH  A  COPY  OF  •  SONGS  OF  GRACE  AND  GLORY, '  TO  CLARA  O., 
FOR  THIRTY  BUNCHES  OF  ASTLEY  VIOLETS. 

Sweet  flowers  of  Spring, 
All  fresh  and  fair  to  see, 

You  sent  to  me  ; 
Sweet  holy  '  Songs  of  Grace 

And  Glory,'  too, 

I  send  to  you. 

Grace  all-sufficient  may 

You  find,  and  know 

On  earth  below, 
Till  God's  own  glory  crown 

Your  faith  and  love, 

In  heaven  above. 

Jnsctiption  in  a  Cop^  of  '  %\t€s  /ISiornfn^/ 

By  Him  '  Life's  Morning '  lovelit  be, 
Who  loved,  and  lived  and  died  for  thee : 
So  shall  thy  Noontide  never  know 
Earth's  burning  thirst,  or  withering  glow : 
And  thou  shalt  fear  no  gathering  night ; 
At  Eventide  it  shall  be  light. 


LITTLE  NORA.  295 


xmie  mora. 

Far  off  upon  a  western  shore, 

Where  wildest  billows  roam, 
Beneath  the  great  grim  rocks  there  stands 

A  tiny  cabin  home ; 

And  in  it  dwells  a  little  one, 

With  eyes  of  laughing  blue, 
And  lips  as  red  as  any  rose 

With  early  sparkling  dew. 

Her  father  was  a  fisher,  and 

Went  out  with  every  tide, 
While  Nora  sat  and  watched  alone 

By  her  sick  mother's  side. 

It  was  a  weary  thing  to  sit 

For  many  a  long,  long  day, 
Without  a  ramble  on  the  beach, 

Or  e'en  a  thought  of  play ; 

But  Nora  did  not  think  it  hard, 

She  loved  her  mother  so, 
And  in  a  thousand  ways  she  tried 

Her  earnest  love  to  show. 

One  day  she  left  the  cabin  door, 
And  walked  a  lon^,  long  way — 

Now  high  upon  the  breezy  cliffs, 
Now  close  to  ocean  spray. 


,  296  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 

She  went  to  seek  some  remedy 

To  ease  her  mother's  pain, 
Tho'  Httle  hope  there  was  that  she 

Could  e'er  be  well  again. 

The  ruby  clouds  have  curtained  o'er 

The  golden  glowing  west, 
Where  'neath  the  white-winged  wavelets  now 

The  sun  hath  gone  to  rest ; 

But  little  Nora  comes  not  yet ! 

The  mother's  fears  arise, 
The  evening  breeze  brings  nothing  save 

The  seabird's  mournful  cries. 


The  twilight  hour  is  passing  fast 

In  weariness  and  pain, 
She  waits  and  listens  for  her  child, 

As  yet  she  waits  in  vain. 

Hark,  hark  !  a  bounding  step  is  heard 

Along  the  pebbly  shore, 
And  now  a  tiny  hand  is  laid 

Upon  the  cabin  door ; 

'  Oh,  mother,  darling  mother,  I 
Have  such  good  news  to  tell ! 

Far  more  than  medicine  I  have  broughi 
To  make  you  glad  and  well  I ' 


LITTLE  NORA.  297 


More  brightly  gleamed  her  joyous  eye, 

And  rosier  grew  her  cheek, 
While  forth  she  poured  the  happy  words, 

As  fast  as  tongue  could  speak. 


'  I  bought  the  medicine,  mother  dear, 

And  turned  to  come  away, 
When  by  me  stood  a  kind  grave  man. 

And  gently  bade  me  stay ; 

'  And  then  he  spoke  sweet  words  to  me, 

About  the  Saviour's  love, 
And  of  the  glorious  home  where  all 

His  children  meet  above. 


*  He  told  me  Jesus  loved  us  so 

That  He  came  down  to  die, 
And  suffered  all  instead  of  us ; — 
And  then  it  made  me  cry : 

*  He  said  His  blood  was  quite  enough 

To  wash  our  sins  away, 
And  make  us  fit  for  Heaven  at  once 
If  we  should  die  to-day. 

*  So,  mother  dear,  we  shall  not  need 

To  purgatory  go ; 
If  Jesus  has  forgiven  all, 

That  is  enough,  you  know  ! ' 


298  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 

The  rosy  glow  had  rested  on 
The  mothers  whitening  cheek  ; 

'T  was  fading  now,  and  Nora  ceased — 
Then  came  a  long  wild  shriek, — 

'  Oh,  mother,  speak  to  me  once  more, — 

Oh,  is  she  really  dead  ? ' 
'T  was  even  so,  the  hand  was  cold, 

And  stilled  the  throbbing  head ; 

Yes,  even  while  those  blessed  words 

Like  angel-music  fell, 
Her  weary  spirit  passed  away, 

But  whither  !  who  may  tell  ? 

Oh,  bitter  were  the  tears  which  fell 

From  little  Nora's  eye. 
And  many  a  day  and  night  had  passed 

Ere  they  again  were  dry. 

But  bitterest  were  they  when  she  thought, 

'  Oh,  I  can  never  tell 
If  with  that  blessed  Saviour  now. 

Sweet  mother,  thou  dost  dwell ! 

*Ah  !  had  I  only  sooner  known 

What  I  have  heard  to-day, 
I  would  have  told  her  more  of  Him 

Before  she  went  away ; 

'  For  perhaps  she  did  not  hear  me  then, 

So  she  could  never  know 
The  way  that  Jesus  Christ  has  made 

To  His  bright  home  to  go. 


^COME  OVER  AND  HELP  US:  299 

*  I  love  Him,  yes,  I  'm  sure  I  do, 

Then  He  will  take  me  home 
To  be  with  Him  for  evermore, 
Where  sorrow  cannot  come ; 

*  But  oh,  I  cannot  bear  to  think, 

When  I  His  glory  see, 
And  rest  within  the  Saviour's  arms — 
Where  will  my  mother  be  ? ' 

Dear  children,  you  have  learnt  the  way 

To  that  bright  home  above, 
You  have  been  told  of  Jesus  and 

His  deep  and  tender  love  ; 

In  Ireland  there  are  little  ones 

Whose  hearts  are  very  sad, 
Oh,  won't  you  try  and  send  to  them 

Sweet  words  to  make  them  glad  ? 

'Come  over  ant)  Ibelp  XHs/ 

THE  IRISH  child's   CRY. 

Oir,  children  of  England,  beyond  the  blue  sea, 

Your  poor  little  brothers  and  sisters  are  we ; 

'T  is  not  much  affection  or  pity  we  find, 

But  we  hear  you  are  loving  and  gentle  and  kind; 

So  will  you  not  listen  a  minute  or  two. 

While  we  tell  you  a  tale  that '  •,  all  of  it  true  ? 

We  live  in  a  cabin,  dark,  smoky,  and  poor; 
At  night  we  lie  down  on  the  hard  dirty  floor; 


300  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 

Our  clothes  are  oft  tattered,  and  shoes  we  have  none  j 
Our  food  we  must  beg,  as  we  always  have  done ; 
So  cold  and  so  hungry,  and  wretched  are  we, 
It  would  make  you  quite  sad  if  you  only  could  see. 

There 's  no  one  to  teach  us  poor  children  to  read  \ 

There's  no  one  to  help  us,  and  no  one  to  lead; 

There's  no  one  at  all  that  will  tell  us  the  way 

To  be  happy  or  safe,  or  teach  us  to  pray : 

To  the  bright  place  above  us  we  all  want  to  go, 

But  we  cannot, — for  how  \0  get  there  we  don't  knov/. 

They  tell  us  the  Virgin  will  hear  if  we  call. 
But  sure  in  one  minute  she  can't  hear  us  all. 
And  the  saints  are  too  busy  in  Heaven,  we  hear ; 
Then  often  the  priests  make  us  tremble  with  fear 
At  the  fire  of  purgatory,  which,  as  they  tell, 
Is  almost  as  dreadful  as  going  to  hell. 

Oh,  will  you  not  help  us,  and  send  us  a  ray 
Of  the  light  of  the  Gospel,  to  brighten  our  way  ? 
Oh,  will  you  not  tell  us  the  beautiful  story 
Of  Jesus,  who  came  from  His  dwelling  of  glory 
To  save  little  children,  and  not  only  you. 
But  even  the  poor  ragged  Irish  ones  too  ? 

Xlbe  lEnalfsb  Cbilb's  IRepl^, 

We  have  heard  the  call  from  your  fair  green  Isle ; 

Our  hearts  have  wept  at  your  saddening  tale  ; 
And  we  long  to  waken  a  brighter  smile 

By  a  story  of  love  which  shall  never  fail. 


THE  ENGLISH  CHILD'S  REPL  Y.  301 

We  should  like  you  to  come  to  our  Bible-land, 
And  share  our  comforts  and  blessings  too ; 

We  would  take  you  all  with  a  sister's  hand, 
And  try  to  teach  and  to  gladden  you. 

But  you're  so  far  off  that  it  cannot  be, 

And  we  have  no  wings,  or  to  you  we  'd  fly ; 

So  we'll  try  to  send  o'er  the  foaming  sea 
Sweet  words  to  brighten  each  heavy  eye, — 

Sweet  words  of  Him,  who  was  once  so  poor, 
That  He  had  not  where  to  lay  His  head ; 

But  hath  opened  now  the  gleaming  door 

To  the  palace  of  light,  where  His  feast  is  spread. 


There  you  may  enter ;  He  calls  each  one, — 
You're  as  welcome  there  as  the  greatest  king  1 

Come  to  Him  then,  for  He  casts  out  none. 
And  nothing  at  all  do  you  need  to  bring. 

He  will  change  your  rags  for  a  robe  of  white. 
An  angel-harp,  and  a  crown  of  gold  ; 

You  may  dwell  for  aye  in  His  presence  bright. 
And  the  beaming  smiles  of  His  love  behold. 

We  will  gladly  save  from  our  little  store 

Our  pennies,  our  farthings,  from  day  to  day, 

And  only  wish  we  could  do  far  more ; 
But  for  Erin's  children  we'll  always  pray. 


302  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


Ube  Bisappofnteb  Carol  Singers. 

Oh,  must  we  not  sing  our  Christmas  hymn, 

And  will  you  not  hear  our  song  ? 
With  joyous  voice,  but  with  weary  limb, 

We  have  roamed  the  whole  day  long  ! 

We  have  thought  of  the  merry  Christmas  time 

For  many  a  week  before, 
And  have  gleefully  learnt  our  Christmas  rhyme 

To  carol  at  your  door. 

There  are  no  merry  larks  to  wake  you  now, 

No  blackbirds  in  woody  dell ; 
The  nightingale  loves  not  the  leafless  bough, 

The  humming  bee  sleeps  in  his  cell. 

Oh,  winter  is  gloomy  and  dark  enough. 

And  must  it  be  silent  too  ? 
Are  the  chorus  of  winds  and  the  storm-song  rough 

The  only  sweet  music  for  you  ? 

But  we  are  the  birds  of  the  winter  day, 

When  all  else  is  dark  and  still ; 
Then,  lady,  send  us  not  all  away, 

And  with  sorrow  our  eager  hearts  fill. 

Oh,  do  not  thus  wave  your  beautiful  hand, 

And  bid  us  unheard  to  go  ; 
For  the  carolling  time  of  our  little  band 

Comes  but  once  a  year,  you  know. 


THE  HAPPIEST  CHRISTMAS  DA  Y.  303 


Xlbc  Ibappiest  Cbristmas  2>a^, 

Sybil,  my  little  one,  come  away, 
I  have  a  plan  for  Christmas  Day  : 
Put  on  your  hat,  and  trot  with  me, 
A  dear  little  sufifering  girl  to  see. 

'T  is  riot  very  far,  and  there's  plenty  of  time, 
For  the  bells  have  not  begun  to  chime ; 
So,  Sybil,  over  the  sparkling  snow 
To  dear  little  Lizzie  let  us  go. 

Dear  little  Lizzie  is  ill  and  weak, 
Only  just  able  to  smile  and  speak. 
Yesterday  morning  I  stood  by  her  bed ; 
Now,  shall  I  tell  you  what  she  said  ? 

*  Christmas  is  coming  to-morrow,'  said  I. 
'  I  shall  be  happy  ! '  was  Lizzie's  reply  ; 

*  Happy,  so  happy  ! '     I  wish  you  had  heard 
How  sweetly  and  joyously  rang  that  word. 

*  Dear  little  Lizzie,  lying  in  pain, 
With  never  a  hope  to  be  better  again. 
Lying  so  lonely,  what  will  you  do  ? 
Why  will  the  day  be  so  happy  to  you  ? ' 

Lizzie  looked  up  with  a  smile  as  bright 
As  if  she  were  full  of  some  new  delight ; 
And  the  sweet  little  lips  just  parted  to  say, 

*  I  shall  think  of  Jesus  all  Christmas  Day ! 


304  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN: 

How  would  you  like  to  take  her  the  spray 
Of  red-berried  holly  I  gave  you  to-day? 
And  what  if  we  gave  her  the  pretty  wreath  too 
That  Bertha  has  made  with  ivy  and  yew? 

The  green  and  the  scarlet  would  brighten  the  gloom 

Of  dear  little  Lizzie's  shady  room  ; 

And,  Sybil,  I  know  she  would  like  us  to  sing 

A  Christmas  song  of  the  new-born  King. 

Sybil,  my  little  one,  if  we  do, 
It  will  help  us  to  '  think  of  Jesus '  too ; 
And  Lizzie  was  right,  for  that  is  the  way 
To  have  the  happiest  Christmas  Day  ! 


Comfng  Into  tbe  Sbabe. 

Out  in  the  midsummer  sunshine, 

Out  in  the  golden  light, 
Merrily  helping  the  gardener, 

Ever  so  busy  and  bright, — 
With  tiny  barrow  and  rake  and  hoe, 
Helena  flitted  to  and  fro. 

But  the  midsummer  sun  rose  higher 

Over  the  flowery  spot ; 
*  I  must  rest  a  little  now,'  she  said, 

'  I  am  so  tired  and  hot. 
Oh,  let  me  come  to  you,  and  look 
At  the  pictures  in  your  beautiful  booU 


COMING  INTO  THE  SHADE.  .        305 


Why  we  should  leave  the  sunny  lawn 

She  did  not  understand, 
But  cheerily,  trustfully,  Helena  laid 

In  mine,  her  little  brown  hand, 
And  I  led  her  away  to  a  shady  room, 
To  rest  in  the  coolness  and  the  gloom. 

For  she  could  not  have  seen  the  pictures 

Out  in  that  dazzling  light ; 
The  book  was  there  with  its  colours  fair, 

But  the  sunshine  was  too  bright. 
But  in  the  shade  I  could  let  her  look 
At  the  pictures  in  my  beautiful  book, 

'  I  have  never  seen  them  before,'  she  said, 

'  I  am  so  glad  I  came  ! 
And  the  gardener  will  manage  the  flowers,  I  thin'^ 

Without  me,  just  the  same  ! 
And  I  need  not  trouble  at  all,  you  know, 
About  my  barrow  and  rake  and  hoe.' 

So  page  after  page  was  gently  turned, 

As  I  showed  her  one  by  one, 
And  told  her  what  the  pictures  meant, 

Till  the  beautiful  book  was  done. 
And  then — I  shall  not  soon  forget 
The  loving  kiss  of  my  tiny  pet. 

And  now — I  shall  not  soon  forget 

The  lesson  she  had  taught, 
How  from  the  sunshine  into  the  shade 

God's  little  ones  are  brought, 
That  they  may  see  what  He  could  not  «hov/ 
Among  the  flowers  in  the  summer  glow. 

u 


306  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


"BtQiXi  at   ®nce. 

BAND  OF  HOPE  SONG. 

Begin  at  once  !     In  the  pleasant  days, 

While  we  are  all  together, 
While  we  can  join  in  prayer  and  praise, 
While  we  can  meet  for  healthful  plays, 

In  the  glow  of  summer  weather. 
Begin  at  once,  with  heart  and  hand, 
And  swell  the  ranks  of  our  happy  band. 

Begin  at  once  !     For  we  do  not  know 
What  may  befall  to-morrow  1 

Many  a  tempter,  many  a  foe 

Lieth  in  wait  where'er  you  go. 

With  the  snare  that  leads  to  sorrovi'. 

Begin  at  once  !  nor  doubting  stand. 

But  swell  the  ranks  of  our  happy  band. 

Begin  at  once  !  There  is  much  to  do  j 
Oh,  do  not  wait  for  others  ! 

Join  us  to-day  ! — be  brave  and  true ; 

join  us  to-day  ! — there's  room  for  you, 
And  a  welcome  from  your  brothers. 

Begin  at  once  !  for  the  work  is  grand 

That  God  has  given  to  our  happy  band. 

Begin  at  once  !     In  the  strength  of  God, 
For  that  will  never  fail  you  1 


♦  THA T'S  NOT  THE   IVAY  AT  SEA. '  307 

Under  His  banner,  bright  and  broad. 
You  shall  be  safe  from  fear  and  fraud, 
And  from  all  that  can  assail  you. 
Begin  at  once, — with  resolute  stand, 
And  swell  the  ranks  of  our  happy  band. 


*Ubat'5  not  tbe  Mai^  at  Sea/ 

Reply  of  Captain  Bourchier  of  the  training-ship  Goliath,  when  his  boys 
entreated  him  to  save  himself  from  the  burning  wreck.     1876. 

He  stood  upon  the  fiery  deck, 

Our  Captain  kind  and  brave  ! 
He  would  not  leave  the  burning  wreck, 

While  there  was  one  to  save.. 
We  wanted  him  to  go  before, 

And  we  would  follow  fast ; 
We  could  not  bear  to  leave  him  thera. 

Beside  the  blazing  mast. 
But  his  voice  rang  out  in  a  cheery  shout, 

And  noble  words  spoke  he, — 
*  That's  not  the  way  at  sea,  my  boys, 

That's  not  the  way  at  sea  ! ' 

So  each  one  did  as  he  was  bid, 

And  into  the  boats  we  passed, 
While  closer  came  the  scorching  flame, 

And  our  Captain  was  the  last. 
Yet  once  again  he  dared  his  life, 

One  little  lad  to  save  ; 
Then  we  pulled  to  shore  from  the  blaze  and  roar, 

With  our  Captain  kind  and  brave. 


3o8  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREt^. 


In  the  face  of  Death,  with  its  fiery  breath, 
He  had  stood, — and  so  would  we  i' 

For  that's  the  way  at  sea,  my  boys, 
For  that's  the  way  at  sea  ! 

Now  let  the  noble  words  resound, 

And  echo  far  and  free, 
Wherever  English  hearts  are  found, 

On  English  shore  or  sea. 
The  iron  nerve  of  duty,  joined 

With  golden  vein  of  love. 
Can  dare  to  do,  and  dare  to  wait, 

With  courage  from  above. 
Our  Captain's  shout  among  the  flames 

A  watchword  long  shall  be, — 
'That's  not  the  way  at  sea,  my  boys. 

That's  not  the  way  at  sea!' 


Melcome  to  Minterb^nc, 

Francie  and  Willie,  welcome  to  you  ! 

Alfred  and  Alice,  welcome  too  ! 
To  an  English  home  and  Enghsh  love 
Welcome,  each  little  Irish  dove  ! 
Never  again  we  hope  to  be 
Kept  apart  by  an  angry  sea. 
A  thousand  welcomes,  O  darlings  mine, 
When  we  see  you  at  Winterdyne  ! 

Welcome  all  to  a  warm  new  nest, 
Just  the  place  for  our  doves  to  rest, 


WELCOME  TO  WINTEkDYNE.  309 

Through  the  oaks  and  beeches  looking  down 
On  the  winding  valley  and  quaint  old  town, 
Where  ivy  green  on  the  red  rock  grows, 
And  silvery  Severn  swiftly  flows, 
With  an  extra  sparkle  and  glitter  and  shine 
Under  the  woods  of  Winterdyne. 

On  a  quiet  evening  in  lovely  spring, 

In  the  tall  old  elms  the  nightingales  sing  j 
Under  the  forest  in  twilight  grey, 
I  have  heard  them  more  than  a  mile  away, 
Sweeter  and  louder  and  far  more  clear 
Than  any  thrush  you  ever  did  hear ; 
Perhaps,  when  the  evenings  grow  long  and  fine, 
They  will  sing  to  you  in  Winterdyne, 

Little  to  sadden,  and  nothing  to  fear ; 

Priest  and  Fenian  never  come  here ; 
Only  the  sound  of  the  Protestant  bells 
Up  from  the  valley  pleasantly  swells. 
And  a  beautiful  arch,  to  church,  is  made 
Under  the  sycamore  avenue's  shade ;  • 

You  pass  where  its  arching  boughs  entwine, 

Out  of  the  gates  of  Winterdyne. 

Welcome  to  merry  old  England  !     And  yet 
We  know  that  old  Ireland  you  will  not  forget ; 

Many  a  thought  and  prayer  will  fly 

Over  the  mountains  of  Wales  so  high, 

Over  the  forest  and  over  the  sea, 

To  the  home  which  no  longer  yours  must  be. 

But  farewells  are  over,  O  darlings  mine, 
Now  it  is  Welcome  to  Winterdyne  1 


3IO  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


Suggested  by  a  child's  remark,  '  What  a  queer  place  Jericho  must 
be,  if  all  th2  persons  and  things  get  there  that  are  zvished  there  ! ' 

Once  on  a  time  I  a  visit  had  paid, 
All  very  pleasant  as  long  as  I  made 
Remarks  on  the  topics  I  fancied  or  guessed 
Any  one  present  was  sure  to  like  best. 
Then  came  the  trial  of  courage  and  skill ; — 
(Oh  for  a  talent  for  gilding  the  pill !) 
Out  of  my  pocket  with  tremulous  thought 
A  card  for  collecting  was  cautiously  brought. 

What  the  result,  there  is  no  need  to  tell ; 
Collectors  are  often  received  very  well, 
Sometimes,  alas  !  it  is  quite  the  reverse. 
So  you  take  up  the  work  for  better,  for  worse ; 
Still,  I  was  conscious  'twas  better  to  go 
After  revealing  my  errand,  and  so 
•  Forth  in  the  mist  of  the  evening  I  wandered. 
And  on  changes  of  tone  and  of  countenance 
pondered ! 

Weary  the  feet,  and  closing  the  day ; 
Is  there  not  danger  of  losing  the  way? 
Strange  are  the  hills  and  the  forests  around ; 
Where  shall  a  home-leading  pathway  be  found  ? 
I  cannot  turn  back,  and  I  cannot  advance ; — 
Is  it  a  nightmare,  or  is  it  a  trance  ? 
Shadowy  figures  are  faintly  seen, 
Spectral  and  silent,  dimly  serene ; 


TO  JERICHO  AND  BACK.  311 


Persons  and  things  in  range  on  range, 
All  familiar,  yet  all  so  strange  ; 
Shades  of  all  things  that  ever  annoyed, 
All  that  ever  one  wished  to  avoid. 

Strange  though  it  be,  I  need  not  fear ; 

'Tis  a  wonderful  region,  and  how  I  came  here 

I  cannot  explain,  but  as  it  is  so, 

Let  me  investigate  whether  or  no, 

And  enumerate  some  of  the  objects  I  find  ; 

No  names  shall  be  mentioned,  so  no  one  will  mind 

Determining  thus,  I  quickly  began 

Everything  round  me  more  closely  to  scan, 

Hoping  to  make  a  report  of  the  case 

To  friends  who  had  never  discovered  the  place ; 

Having  set  out  on  this  singular  track. 

Not  in  a  hurry  was  I  to  get  back. 

Aid  unexpected  was  close  to  my  side. 
Soon  I  perceived  an  invisible  guide, 
Only  a  voice,  clear,  quiet,  and  low, 
Telling  me  all  that  I  wanted  to  know. 

People  of  every  age  and  class 
Under  review  appeared  to  pass; 
Some  I  recognised  perfectly  well, 
(More  of  these  than  I  choose  to  tell !) 
Of  others  I  learnt  the  name  and  degree 
From  the  bodiless  guide  who  followed  me. 

There  were  several  sharp  little  girls 

Who  had  made  remarks  on  chignons  and  curls, 


CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


And  dozens  and  dozens  of  dreadful  boys 
With  special  talents  for  mischief  and  noise ; 
Specimens,  too,  in  greatest  variety, 
Of  every  sort  of  bores  of  society, — 
Boorish  bores,  and  bores  poUte, 
People  who  stay  too  late  at  night. 
People  who  make  long  morning  calls, 
People  who  think  of  nothing  but  balls, 
People  who  never  a  move  will  make, 
People  who  never  a  hint  can  take ; 
Strong-minded  bores,  and  weak-minded  too, 
Masculine,  feminine,  not  a  few ; 
People  who  borrow  books  to  lose. 
People  who  will  not  wipe  their  shoes. 
People  who  keep  your  mind  on  the  rack 
Lest  some  pussy  escape  from  the  sack; 
Over  stupid,  and  over  clever ; 
People  who  seem  to  talk  for  ever ; 
People  who  mutter,  and  people  who  drawl, 
People  who  will  not  talk  at  all. 

There  were  ledgers  and  day-books  in  piles  on  piles, 
And  letters  and  papers  in  files  on  files ; 
Foolscap  and  parchment,  deeds  and  wills  j 
And  oh,  such  a  mass  of  unpaid  bills  1 

There  was  a  wonderful  heap  of  slates. 
Scribbled  all  over  with  sums  and  dates, 
With  names  of  counties  and  names  of  towns, 
With  Latin  verbs  and  German  nouns, 
Vulgar  fractions  and  multiplication, 
And  plenty  more  of  the  like  vexation. 


TO  JERICHO  AND  BACK.  313 


And  finished  was  seldom  seen  ; 
Many  a  half-worked  cushion  and  screen, 
Many  a  drawing  just  half  done, 
Plenty  of  things  in  haste  begun ; 
Soon  might  Patience  and  Perseverance 
Among  this  collection  effect  a  clearance. 

Now  and  then  throughout  my  stay 
Things  arrived  in  a  wholesale  way ; 
Sometimes  a  house  came  gliding  down, 
Sometimes  a  village  or  even  a  town  ; 
Sometimes  a  borough  my  eyes  would  meet, 
With  candidates,  voters,  and  votes  complete ; 
'  But,'  whispered  my  guide,  '  the  person  who  sent  it 
Was  never  the  man  who  could  represent  it.' 

*  The  person  who  sent  it !  that's  not  at  all  clear : 
Who  has  the  power  to  send  things  here  ? 
What  is  the  power,  and  how  does  one  use  it  ? 
Can  any  one  have  it  if  only  they  choose  it  ? ' 

*  Every  one  has  it,'  responded  my  guide ; 

'  Oft  by  yourself  has  the  power  been  tried, 
On  yourself  too,  or  you  would  not  be  here, 
In  this  region  of  shadows  so  dismal  and  drear. 
Only  a  wish  is  the  power  that  brings 
Hither  this  medley  of  persons  and  things ; 
Only  a  wish  of  the  opposite  kind 
Loosens  the  spell,  as  you'll  presently  find. 
Some  one  has  wished  you  farther  away. 
That  is  the  reason  you  came  here  to-day ; 
Some  one  may  wish  you  were  speedily  near, 
Then  you  no  longer  may  stay  with  us  here. 


314  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 

Watch  your  companions,  you'll  see  at  a  glance 
A  few  are  awake,  but  most  in  a  trance. 
Thousands  are  sent  who  never  know  it, 
Editors  sending  many  a  poet, 
Children  sending  half  their  teachers, 
Listeners  sending  half  their  preachers. 
There  are  some  who  send  their  dearest  friends 
If  they  happen  to  cross  their  private  ends, 
Or  give  advice  which  is  good  and  true, 
If  it's  not  the  thing  that  they  wish  to  do ; 
Or  to  be  a  little  too  quick  of  sight.' 
(If  they  never  came    back,   it   would    serve    them 
right !) 

Plenty  of  music  went  on  meanwhile, 

Not  in  the  Handel  Festival  style  ! 

For  hither  most  people  agree  to  despatch 

New  violins,  with  players  to  match, 

Old  pianos  that  rattle  and  jingle. 

Or  Broadwood  grands  that  make  your  ears  tingle 

With  polkas  and  waltzes  four  hours  a  day ; 

All  barrel  organs,  whatever  they  play ; 

All  German  bands  that  won't  play  in  tune ; 

People  who  practise  too  late  or  too  soon  ; 

Contraltos  that  groan,  and  sopranos  that  squall, 

Basses  that  bellow,  and  tenors  that  bawl. 

Suddenly,  while  these  melodious  strains 

Filled  up  the  measure  of  puzzles  and  pains, 

Everything  faded  away  from  my  gaze. 

Into  the  deepening  darkness  and  haze  j 

All  the  unbearable  chaos  of  sound 

Melted  away  into  silence  profound. 


MY  NEST.  315 


How  I  came  back,  to  this  day  I  don't  know, 

Only  I  found  myself  all  in  a  glow, 

Hastening  into  the  parlour  to  see 

If  I  had  kept  them  all  waiting  for  tea. 

Welcoming  voices  said, — '  We  were  afraid 

You  with  some  neighbour  the  evening  had  staid ; 

Your  presence  is  wanted  to  brighten  and  cheer ; 

Where  have  you  been  ?  we  were  wishing  you  here  ! ' 

*  Thanks,'  cried  I ;  '  you  have  caJled  me  away 

From  a  limbo  of  dreary  shades  to-day. 

May  you  never  the  pathway  know 

Leading  away  to  JERICHO  ! 

Or  if  you  are  sent  on  that  dismal  track, 

May  loving  wishes  soon  summon  you  back  I ' 


My  lodging  was  on  the  cold  rough  ground, 

And  my  pillow  a  rocky  shelf; 
And  the  Poet's  Corner  was  full  of  dust, 
And  bits  of  stick  and  dead  leaves,  just 

An  emblem  of  myself ! 


But  lo !  I  find  that  some  little  birds, 

With  busy  beak  and  wing, 
Have  made  for  me  a  cosy  nest, 
The  very  sort  thai;  I  like  best, 
Where  I  can  lie  in  pleasant  rest, 
And  twitter,  if  not  sing  ! 


3i6  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 


And  the  Poet's  Corner  is  swept  so  clean, 

And  made  so  nice  and  neat, 
That  really  I  should  feel  quite  rude^ 
If  I  don't,  in  common  gratitude, 
Produce  some  verses  on  the  spot, 
And  pour  them  out  all  fresh  and  hot, 
For  my  little  birds  so  sweet 


Btbelbert's  *  Comlna  Ibome  in  tbe  Barft/ 

Did  I  tell  you  how  we  went  to  tea, 

All  by  ourselves,  with  kind  Mrs.  B.  ? 

And  how  we  came  home  in  the  dark  so  late, 

I  think  it  was  nearly  half-past  eight ! 

We  liked  the  tea,  and  all  the  rest, 

But  coming  home  in  the  dark  was  best, — 

Best  of  all !  oh,  it  was  such  fun,    ■ 

The  nicest  thing  we  have  ever  done. 

Nurse  took  Willie,  and  Bertha  took  me, — 

Bertha  is  such  a  great  girl,  you  see ; 

She  sometimes  says  to  us,  '  Now,  little  boys, 

Don't  you  make  such  a  dreadful  noise. 

You  will  wake  little  Sybil  with  all  your  riot ! ' 

And  then  we  have  to  be — oh,  so  quiet ! 

She  is  nearly  eight,  and  ever  so  tall ; 

But  Willie  and  I  are  not  very  small ; 

We  are  six  years  old,  and  our  birthdays  came 

Both  on  one  day,  the  very  same. 

So  people  say  we  are  little  twins. 

And  as  much  alike  as  two  little  pins. 


ETHELBERrS  '  COMING  HOME  IN  THE  DARK:    317 

And  Papa  likes  having  a  pair  of  boys, 
Although  we  make  such  a  dreadful  noise ; 
'  Much  more  amusing,'  we  heard  him  say, 
•  Than  a  couple  of  odd  ones  any  day  ! ' 

It  was  only  so  very  dark  down  below 
Along  the  lane  where  the  blackberries  grow, 
For  the  little  stars  were  out  in  the  sky, 
And  we  laughed  to  see  them,  Willie  and  I, 
For  they  twinkled  away,  so  quick  and  bright, 
I  think  they  were  laughing  at  us  that  night. 
A  bright  one  got  up  from  behind  a  tree, 
And  peeped  at  Bertha  and  Willie  and  me ; 
And  round  the  corner  we  saw  another 
Playing  at  hide-and-seek  with  his  brother, 
Popping  out  from  a  cloud,  and  then 
Running  behind  it  to  hide  again. 

And  then  the  kind  little  Moon  came  out 
To  take  care  of  the  Stars  as  they  played  about ; 
She  looked  so  quiet  and  good,  we  thought 
That  perhaps  they  went  to  her  school  to  be  taught, 
And  to  learn  from  her  how  to  shine  so  bright ; 
But  Grandmamma  told  us  we  did  not  guess  right, 
For  the  Moon  goes  to  scliool  herself  to  the  Sun : 
Do  you  think  she  meant  it  only  in  fun  ? 

Then  all  of  a  sudden  the  Wind  ran  by, 
And  flew  up  to  kiss  the  Stars  in  the  sky ; 
He  tucked  them  up,  and  said  good-night, 
And  drew  the  curtain  round  them  tight. 
That  was  a  great  dark  cloud,  you  see, 
That  hid  the  Stars  from  Willie  and  me. 
I  think  they  were  sorry  to  go  to  bed, 
For  they  did  not  look  tired  at  all,  we  said ; 


3i8  CHORDS  FOR  CHILDREN. 

And  one  or  two  of  them  tried  to  peep ; 

But  very  soon  they  were  all  asleep, 

For  the  Wind  kept  singing  their  lullaby, 

And  we  felt  quite  vexed  with  him,  Willie  and  I. 

I  think  the  Moon  asked  if  she  might  not  stay 
To  light  us  a  little  bit  more  of  the  way, 
But  he  whistled  quite  loud,  and  we  thought  he  said, 
*  No,  no,  no  !  you  must  go  to  bed ! ' 
The  good  little  Moon  did  what  she  was  bid, 
And  under  the  curtains  her  pretty  face  hid; 
And  then  it  got  darker  and  darker  still ; 
Nurse  said  she  was  setting  behind  the  hili. 
So  perhaps  she  was  tired,  and  glad  to  go  j 
It's  a  long  way  across  the  sky,  you  know. 

We  were  not  afraid,  but  we  did  not  talk 
As  we  came  along  the  avenue  walk  ; 
And  we  did  not  quite  like  looking  back. 
For  the  pretty  green  trees  were  all  quite  black. 
But  I  whispered  to  Willie  that  God  was  there, 
And  we  need  not  be  frightened,  for  He  would  take  care 

And  then  all  at  once  we  saw  the  light 
In  the  dining-room  window,  ever  so  bright ; 
And  up  we  came  through  the  little  gate, — 
Oh,  it  was  so  nice  to  come  home  so  late  ! 
And  then  we  gave  a  famous  shout. 
For  dear  Mamma  herself  came  out 
To  meet  us,  just  as  we  got  to  the  door ; 
But  she  had  not  expected  us  home  before. 
And  then  we  took  it  by  turns  to  talk. 
And  tell  them  about  the  tea  and  the  walk  ; 
And  Papa  did  laugh  so, — we  wondered  why  \ 
At  what  we  told  him,  Willie  and  I. 


^ONGS. 


NATIONAL  HYMN.  321 


IRatfonal  Ib^mn. 

WRITTEN  BY  REQUEST  TO  MUSIC   BY  ROSSINI. 

O  Lord  most  high, 
Who  art  God  and  Father, 

Hear  Thou  our  cry, 
While  Thy  children  gather  ! 

Lord  of  Peace,  oh  hearken, 
Though  war-clouds  darken ! 
Do  Thou  our  labours  bless. 
And  crown  them  with  success  1 

Bend  from  Thy  glory  now. 
Hear  each  suppliant  vow ! 
And  on  our  children  pour 
Blessings  evermore. 

Guarded  by  Thee,    , 

England  shall  be 

Bright  in  Thy  light, 

Strong  in  Thy  might. 
Glorious  and  free  I 

Hero  and  saint, 

Victors  at  last, 
Bid  us  not  faint, 

But  follow,  follow  fast. 


322  SONGS. 


Make  us,  we  pray, 
Loyal  as  they, 
Faithful  and  brave, 
Our  country  to  save ! 

When  in  the  grim  fight, 
Pierceth  the  dim  light. 
Through  the  cleft  ranks  that  shall  close  no  more. 
Fearfully  flashing, 
Awfully  crashing, 
Death-furrows  follow  the  cannon's  roar. 
When  wounded  lie, 
Ready  to  die ; 
When  death  is  braved, 
That  life  may  be  saved ; 
Teach  us  to  show 

Mercy  mth  might, 
Pardon  the  foe, 

Crown  Thou  the  right ! 


Father,  hear  us ! 
Thou  art  near  us  ! 
Guard  and  cheer  us 

By  Thy  strong  hand  ! 
Then  Art  resplendent. 
Labour  attendant, 

Shall  bless  our  land  ! 


Lord,  bless  the  land  we  love^ 
God  save  our  Queen  ! 


WELCOME  TO  H.R.H.   THE  PRINCESS  LOUISE.     323 

Scotland's  Melcome  to  B.IR.H?*  princess 

Xouise. 

Sweet  Rose  of  the  South  !  contented  to  rest 
In  the  fair  island  home  which  thy  presence  has  blessed  : 
From  the  Highlands  resounding,  glad  welcome  shall  float, 
And  the  Lowlands  re-echo  the  jubilant  note. 

Merry  England  has  loved  thee  and  cherished  thee  long, 
Her  blessings  go  with  thee  in  prayer  and  in  song ; 
Bonnie  Scotland  has  won  thee,  and  lays  at  thy  feet 
Love  tender  and  fervent,  love  loyal  and  sweet. 

Chorus. — Our  own  bonnie  Scotland  with  welcome  shall  ring, 
While  greeting  and  homage  we  loyally  bring ; 
The  crown  of  our  love  shall  thy  diadem  be, 
And  the  throne  of  our  hearts  is  waiting  for  thee. 


't) 


Then  come,  like  the  sunrise  that  gilds  with  a  smile 
The  dark  mountains  and  valleys  of  lonely  Argyle ; 
Golden  splendour  shall  fall  on  the  pale  northern  snow, 
And  with  roselight  of  love  the  purple  shall  glow. 

Though  the  voice  that  should  bless,  and  the  hand  that 

should  seal, 
Is  'away,'  and  at  rest  in  'the  land  o'  the  leal,' 
May  the  God  of  thy  father  look  graciously  down, 
With  blessings  on  blessings  thy  gladness  to  crown. 

Chorus. — Our  own  bonnie  Scotland  with  welcome  shall  ring. 
While  greeting  and  homage  we  loyally  bring ; 
The  crown  of  our  love  shall  thy  diadem  be, 
And  the  throne  of  our  hearts  is  waiting  for  thee. 


324  SONGS. 


Severn  Sona* 

The  Severn  flow  is  soft  and  fair,  as  slowly 

The  light  grows  dim ; 
The  sunset  glow  is  soft  and  full,  and  holy 

As  evening  hymn. 
We  float  along  beneath  the  forest  darkling, 
Blending  with  song  the  silence  of  the  hour : 
We  swiftly  glide  where  rapids  bright  and  sparkling 
Bear  us  beside  the  ruddy  rock  and  tower. 
O  softly,  softly  row  in  measured  time, 
While  nearer,  nearer  swells  the  curfew  chime. 
Now,  now  again  adown  the  current  shooting, 

New  joy  we  hail ; 
While  through  the  forest  thrills  the  fairy  fluting 

Of  nightingale. 
O  sweet  and  sweeter  that  hidden  lay, 
That  in  the  twilight  dies  away. 
Then  merrily  onward  !     O  merrily  row  ! 
And  smoothly  swift,  O  Severn,  flow ! 

The  Severn  flow  is  swift  and  strong,  as  neareth 

The  home  we  love  ; 
The  sunset  glow  has  paled  and  passed,  and  cleareth 

The  heaven  above. 
The  children's  eyes  will  soon  be  gently  closing, 
Calm  stars  arise  and  shine  on  earth  instead ; 
And  through  the  night,  all  peacefully  reposing, 
Angels  of  light  shall  guard  each  tiny  bed. 
O  swiftly,  swiftly  row  o'er  darkening  stream. 
While  nearer,  nearer  shines  the  home  lamp's  gleam, 


FOR  CHARITY. 


32s 


Now,  now  awake  the  song  of  purest  thrilling, 

Of  home  and  love ; 
And  call  the  echoes  forth,  with  music  filling 

The  rocks  above. 
Our  song  is  sweetest  as  falls  the  day, 
For  we  are  on  our  homeward  way  : 
Then  merrily  onward  !     O  merniy  rov/  ! 
And  smoothly  swift,  O  Severn,  flow ! 


for  Cbarfty. 

The  sun  is  burning,  O  little  maiden, 
Thou  hast  sweet  water,  is  it  for  me  ? 
I  am  so  thirsty,  so  heavy-laden, 
Give  me  cool  water,  for  charity  1 

Sparkling  and  gleaming, 

The  crystal  streaming 
Seems  but  awaiting  my  only  plea — 
I  am  so  thirsty,  so  heavy-laden, 
Give  me  cool  water,  for  charity  ! 

O  gentle  maiden,  I  thirst  no  longer, 
But  sweeter  waters  thou  hast  for  me : 
Then  pour  them  freely,  from  fountain  stronger, 
Sweet  thoughts  of  kindness,  for  charity  1 

The  world  is  only 

A  pathway  lonely. 
And  hearts  are  waiting  for  sympathy ; 
Then  pour  them  freely  from  fountain  stronger 
Sweet  thoughts  of  kindness,  for  charity  ! 


325  SONGS. 


O  little  maiden,  'tis  thine  to  brighten, 
Like  sparkling  waters,  life's  lonely  lea ; 
All  grief  to  soften,  all  joy  to  heighten 
With  love  and  gladness,  for  charity ! 

Thus  onward  flowing, 

All  good  bestowing, 
A  stream  of  blessing  thy  life  shall  be. 
All  grief  to  brighten,  all  joy  to  heighten 
With  love  and  gladness,  for  charity  ! 


ZTbe  Depoiisblre  J^eoinan's  Ibome. 

Ten  years  ago  to-day  our  wedding  bells  were  rung, 
When  all  along  the  winding  lane  wild  roses  hung ; 
And  now  the  roses  cluster  on  our  own  white  walls. 
And  down  the  lane  resound  our  merry  children's  calls. 
There's  sunshine  on  the  moor  and  on  the  glittering  sea. 
And  sunshine  in  our  hearts  as  fresh  and  fair  and  free ; 

We  would  not  change  our  lot  for  London  gold. 
For  home,  our  own  sweet  home,  is  sweeter  now  tenfold. 

No  city  seasons  come  our  pleasant  year  to  mar ; 
The  hay — the  fruit — the  harvest-time  are  merrier  far, 
For  pictures  and  for  music  rare  we  need  but  look 
Around  our  home,  and  listen  to  the  grand  old  Book. 
The    hours   flow   on   from    morning    prayer   to   evening 

praise, 
With   trust   that    lightens,   love    that    brightens    darkest 

days; 
For  though  ten  years  have  passed,  love  grows  not  old, 
And  home,  our  own  dear  home,  is  dearer  now  tenfold. 


THE  DA  WN  OF  MA  Y.  327 


Ube  Bawn  of  /iDa^, 

Come  away,  come  away,  in  the  dawn  of  May, 
When  the  dew  is  sparkling  bright ; 
When  the  woods  are  seen 
All  in  golden  green 
In  the  crystal,  crystal  light. 
The  sweet  perfume  of  violet  bloom. 
And  hawthorn  fragrance  rare. 
From  the  cool  mossy  shade, 
Or  the  warm  sunny  glade, 
Is  filling  all  the  air. 


Come  away,  come  away,  in  the  dawn  of  May, 
When  the  lark  and  the  wnite  cloud  meet ; 
When  the  tuneful  breeze, 
In  the  old  oak  trees, 
Is  harping,  harping  sweet. 
With  joyous  thrill  and  merry  trill, 
The  thrush  and  blackbird  vie. 
As  they  chant  loving  lays. 
And  a  full  song  of  praise. 
To  the  Lord  of  earth  and  sky. 


Come  away,  come  away,  in  the  dawn  of  May, 
In  the  pearly  morning-time, 

When  the  cowslips  spring, 

And  the  blue-bells  ring 
Their  fairy,  fairy  chime. 


328  SONGS. 


With  happy  song,  we  march  along, 
And  carol  on  our  way. 
One  in  heart,  one  in  voice, 
Let  us  all  now  rejoice 
In  the  sunny  dawn  of  May. 


Zbc  Z^volcsc  Spring  Song. 

The  meadows  rejoice  in  their  verdure  so  bright, 

And  glisten  with  pearl  drops  of  dew, 
The  glaciers  are  gleaming  in  radiant  light. 

The  breezes  are  fitful  and  few. 
From  heaven  coming  down,  like  a  golden-haired  child. 
Fair  Spring  o'er  the  earth  has  sparklingly  smiled. 
With  flower-twined  staff,  he  goes  forth  o'er  the  wild. 

The  song  of  the  birds  and  the  herdsman's  glad  lay 

Are  heard  in  the  morning  so  bright ; 
They  sing  when  the  bells,  at  the  closing  of  day, 

Awaken  the  stars  of  the  night. 
The  swell  of  the  joyous  and  heart-stirring  song 
Through  mountain  and  valley  is  pealing  along, 
In  a  tide  of  rejoicing,  all  glorious  and  strong. 

Then  a  fount  of  emotion  awakes  in  the  heart. 

And  the  spirit  is  mightily  stirred, 
The  Tyrolese  longs  from  his  roof  to  depart 

To  wander  and  roam  as  he  will ; 
When  the  meadows  rejoice  in  their  emerald  glow, 
The  sons  of  the  mountain  forth  joyously  go, 
The  world  in  its  beauty  and  gladness  to  kno"^ 


MY  MESSENGERS.  329 


aSyQ  /Iftessen^ers, 

I  SAID  to  the  merry  birds  of  the  woods, 

'  Carry  a  song  to  the  Fair  One ! ' 
They  twittered  and  trilled,  for  they  quite  understood, 

And  flew  away  blithely  to  bear  one. 
Then  listen,  if,  tapping  thy  window  sill, 

They  come  with  their  chirping  and  singing, 
O  listen !  for  over  forest  and  hill, 

My  message  of  love  they  are  bringing. 


I  said  to  the  lilies,  '  Carry  for  me, 

Carry  a  smile  to  the  Sweetest ! ' 
They  nodded  and  said,  '  Our  sister  is  she. 

That  loveliest  lily  thou  greetest. 
O  gather  and  send  us,'  they  whispered  to  me, 

'  And  bid  us  bloom  fragrantly  near  her, 
To  waken  her  smile,  rejoicing  to  be 

Thy  message  of  comfort  to  cheer  her.' 


I  said  to  the  golden  stars  of  night, 

'  O  carry  my  love  to  the  Dearest ! 
In  darkness  surrounding  with  silver  light 

The  Brightest,  the  ever  Nearest ! ' 
And  watchest  thou  now,  my  own,  my  love, 

In  weary  and  lonely  sadness  ? 
Look  up  to  the  stars  in  the  heaven. 

They  bear  thee  my  message  of  gladness. 


330  SONGS. 


6oD  fteep  Ubcc. 

O  DARK  was  the  day  when  I  left  her  alone, 
My  darling,  so  gentle,  so  dear  ! 

0  sad,  yet  O  sweet  was  her  silvery  tone, 
As  she  said,  with  a  glistening  tear : — 

'  Oh,  must  thou  go  forth  in  the  cold  world  to-day, 
And  leave  me,  to  wander  so  far,  far  away  ? 
Oh,  think  of  the  moments  of  joy  that  are  flown, 
And  remember  the  love  that  is  ever  thine  own  ! 
Oh,  Father,  I  pray,  protect  him  alway. 
Protect  by  night  and  by  day  ! ' 

1  left  thee,  indeed,  in  the  cold  world  to  roam. 
Yet,  darling,  my  heart  stayed  behind  ! 

In  dreams  I  come  back  to  the  dear  little  honie, 

And  unaltered  is  all  that  I  find. 
And  then,  as  I  listen,  I  hear  a  soft  tone 
Float  up  from  thy  lips  to  the  emerald  throne, 
'  Oh,  keep  him,  and  bless  him,  by  night  and  by 

day, 
And  guard  him  for  me  while  so  far,  far  away. 
Oh,  Father,  I  pray,  protect  him  alway, 
Protect  by  night  and  by  day  1 ' 


The  ocean  of  life  with  its  hurrying  swell 

Has  drifted  me  far  on  its  tide. 
But  only  and  ever  my  true  heart  shall  dwell 

In  quiet  and  love  at  thy  side. 
And  when  all  the  wandering  and  drifting  are  o'er, 
My  rest  and  my  haven,  my  golden-bright  shore, 


ROSE  OF  ROSES.  33 » 


My  joy,  and  my  home,  and  my  heart  too,  shall  be 
For  ever,  beloved,  for  ever  with  thee  ! 
Oh,  Father,  I  pray,  protect  her  alway, 
Protect  by  night  and  by  day ! 

IRose  of  IRoses, 

Oh,  the  treasures  of  the  Spring, 

Crimson,  blue,  and  golden  ! 
Scattered  from  her  radiant  wing, 

Nothing  is  withholden. 
Myriad  blossoms  ope  each  hour, 

Who  shall  tell  the  fairest  ? 
But  I  miss  the  sweetest  flower, 

Rose,  of  roses  rarest 

Oh,  the  glory  of  the  light. 

Through  the  noontide  beaming ! 
Oh,  the  stars  of  purple  light. 

Through  the  darkness  gleaming  1 
But  the  star  of  softest  ray, 

Clearest,  purest,  whitest, 
Shineth  only  far  away. 

Star,  of  stars  the  brightc.-t ! 

Oh,  the  music  everywhere  ! 

Joyous  larks  are  singing. 
Rivulets  are  flowing  fair, 

Merry  chimes  are  ringing. 
But  I  miss  from  day  to  day 

Music  that  is  dearest, 
Even  thine,  though  far  away, 

Heart,  of  hearts  the  nearest. 


332  SONGS. 


iDast  Zhou  a  XTbougbt? 

When  home  I  came  after  many  a  day 

Of  longing  and  waiting  so  far  away, 

I  sought  the  path  in  the  sunset  glow, 

Where  the  bright  eyes  watched  for  me  long  ago. 

And  the  fair  night  fell  as  I  whispered  low, 

*  Hast  thou  a  thought  of  the  wanderer  now  ? ' 

Then  softly  glimmered  a  sudden  light, 
And  I  saw  thee  lean  from  the  casement  bright, 
And  a  name  floated  forth  from  a  voice  so  sweet ! 
No  doubting  of  heart  and  no  lingering  of  feet ! 
For  I  hastened  near,  and  I  whispered  low, 
'  Hast  thou  a  thought  for  the  wanderer  now  ? ' 

Then  silently  nestled  my  own  sweet  bird, 
With  a  joy  too  deep  for  a  song  or  word ; 
And  I  question  no  more,  for  the  answer  I  know ! 
So  I  ask  not  aloud,  and  I  ask  not  low, 
Whether  every  night,  whether  every  day, 
Thou  hadst  a  thought  of  thy  love  far  away ! 


/in>^  Melcome. 

I  HAVE  waited  for  thy  coming,  love, 
As  the  song-bird  waits  for  spring, 

Ere  the  echo  of  his  merry  lay 
Makes  the  forest  arches  ring; 


A   WIFE'S  LETTER.  333 

But  when  the  spring  is  gone,  love, 

And  summer's  glory  fills, 
How  musical  the  hush,  love, 

Between  the  shadowy  hills. 

1  have  waited  for  thy  coming,  love, 

Yet  bring  to  greet  thee  near, 
Nor  laugh,  nor  words,  nor  carol  gay, 

But  stillness  and  a  tear  ; 
But  if  I  know  thy  heart,  love. 

And  if  thou  readest  mine, 
This  welcome  is  the  best,  love, 

The  truest,  fondest  sign, 

H  WdWs  Xetter» 

•  Not  that  I  've  anything  special  to  say,  but  only  that  it  comes  from 
me.' — E.  to  G.,    J  ait.  11,  1869. 

My  Own ! 

You  won't  expect  to  hear 

As  you  have  only  just  departed. 
But  I'll  be  better  than  you  fear, 

And  write  as  soon  as  you  have  started. 
It  seems  a  long  and  tiresome  day ; 

I'm  merely  writing,  as  you  see, 
Not  that  I've  anything  to  say. 

But  only  that  it  comes  from  me. 

I  watched  the  carriage  out  of  sight, 
And  then  came  back  to  do  my  work ; 

I  could  not  set  the  stitches  right, 
And  so  for  once  the  task  I  '11  shirk ; 


334  SONGS. 

I  've  put  the  children's  frocks  away 
To  \vrite  a  line  or  two  to  thee, 

Not  that  I've  anything  to  say, 
But  only  that  it  comes  from  me. 

I  hope  the  train  will  not  be  late, 

And  that  it  will  not  freeze  or  rain. 
And  oh  !  if  you  should  have  to  wait, 

Be  sure  you  don't  catch  cold  again. 
I  wish  this  moment  on  the  way 

To  overtake  you  I  could  be ! 
Not  that  I've  anything  to  say, 

But  only  to  be  nearer  thee. 

'T  is  six-and-twenty  hours  almost 

Before  I  see  you,  as  I've  reckoned; 
But  you'll  get  this  by  early  post, 

And  you'll  be  home  before  the  second. 
I  'd  like  to  sit  and  write  all  day 

To  Some  One,  if  my  hands  were  free, 
Not  that  I've  anything  to  say, 

But  only  that  it  comes  from  me. 

Though  this  is  such  a  stupid  letter, 

With  love  and  kisses  't  is  irapearled ; 
I  know  that  you  will  like  it  better 

Than  all  the  poems  in  the  world. 
I  trust  that  all  is  safe  and  well, 

Although  I  am  not  there  to  see ; 
I've  nothing  else,  my  Own,  to  tell, 

But  only  that  this  comes  from  me. 


THE  HUSBAND'S  REPLY. 


J05 


Five  minutes  all  I  have  to  spare, 

But  these,  my  Own,  I  give  to  you  ! 
Your  precious  letter's  lying  there. 

So  full  and  fond,  so  dear  and  true. 
I  think  you'll  hardly  hope  to  hear, 

As  I  shall  soon  be  home  again, 
But  you'll  get  this  at  seven,  dear, 

I'm  due  at  eight,  and  then — oh  then/ 

A  hurried  word  or  two  assures 

That  all  is  safe  and  well,  my  dove. 
My  notes  are  not  so  long  as  yours, 

Though  worth  as  much  in  golden  love. 
So  where  I've  been,  and  whom  I've  seen, 

And  how,  and  why,  and  what,  and  when, 
I'll  tell  you  when  we  meet,  my  queen. 

At  eight  o'clock, — and  t/ien — oh  t/ien  / 


®nl^  tot  ®nc* 

I  HAVE  a  smile  my  friends  to  greet. 
Hearty  and  pleasant  for  all  I  meet, 

Hidden  from  none  : 
But  I  have  a  smile  that  they  do  not  know, 
Lit  by  a  deeper,  tenderer  glow, 
And  I  keep  it  bright  in  my  heart  below, 

Only  for  one ! 


336  SONGS. 


I  have  a  song  for  every  ear, 
Leaving  an  echo  to  soothe  and  cheer 

When  it  is  done  : 
But  I  have  a  music  of  truer  beat, 
Not  to  be  poured  at  the  great  world's  feet, 
Richer  and  softer  and  far  more  sweet, 

Only  for  one ! 

I  have  a  love  for  all  who  care 

Aught  of  its  warmth  to  claim,  or  share, 

Free  as  the  sun ; 
But  I  have  a  love  which  I  do  not  hint, 
Gold  that  is  stamped  with  my  soul's  imprint, 
A  wealth  of  love,  both  mine  and  mint. 

Only  for  one ! 


®ne  tor  tbe  ®tber» 

Was  it  '  only  for  one,'  dear,  '  only  for  one,' 

That  the  smile,  and  the  song,  and  the  love  should  be  ? 
Then  a  smile  shall  flash,  and  a  song  shall  flov/, 
And  a  deep,  deep  love  shall  thrill  and  glow, 

Only  for  thee,  dear,  only  for  thee  ! 
For  so  shall  it  be. 

One  for  the  other — nevermore  lonely, 

One  for  the  other — ever  and  only. 

The  blossoms  that  now  at  my  feet  you  lay 

Shall  be  golden  fruit  for  you  and  me. 
When  spring  and  summer  have  passed  away. 
And  softly  falls  the  autumn  day. 


THINKING  TOGETHER,  OR  GRAVITATION.      337 


Like  the  close  of  a  holy  melody. 

For  so  shall  it  be, 
One  for  the  other — nevermore  lonely, 
One  for  the  other — ever  and  only. 

Yes  !  one  for  the  other,  blessing  and  blessed. 

In  the  strength  of  His  gladness,  calm  and  bright, 
But  with  more  of  blessing  and  love  for  all, 
The  smile  shall  beam,  and  the  song  shall  fall, 

Touching  the  shadows  around  with  light, — 
Because  it  shall  be 

One  for  the  other — nevermore  lonely, 

One  for  the  other — ever  and  only  ! 


Ubinfting  toaetber,  or  (Bravitatlon. 

Of  what  are  you  thinking  now,  dear. 

Now  that  good-night  is  said, 
Now  that  the  children's  eyes  are  shut, 

And  the  stars  shine  out  instead ; 
Now  that  the  far  church-clock  sounds  near, 

For  the  world  is  all  so  still, 
And  the  cottage  twinkle  has  long  gone  out 

On  the  slope  of  the  fir-crowned  hill  ? 

Of  what  are  you  thinking  now,  dear  ? 

Could  a  thought-flash  reach  me  here. 
The  message  would  not  surprise  me, 

But  only  strengthen  and  cheer. 


338  SONGS. 


For  love  has  told  it  already, 

That  seer  so  bold  and  true  ! 
I  know  you  are  thinking  of  me,  dear, 

For  I  am  thinking  of  you. 

I  know  you  are  thinking  of  me,  dear, 

For  the  whirl  of  the  day  hath  ceased, 
The  circling  force  is  spent  at  last, 

And  our  spirits  are  released ; 
And  heart  to  heart  hath  swiftly  turned 

After  the  lonely  strife. 
For  each  is  the  centre  of  each,  dear, 

By  the  law  of  our  truest  life. 

We  have  but  one  other  thought,  dear, 

In  these  quiet,  restful  hours. 
And  that  is  of  Him  whose  love  is  twined 

In  a  threefold  cord  with  ours. 
So  you  are  thinking  of  me,  dear, 

And  I  am  thinking  of  you, 
And  He  is  thinking  of  us  both  : 

Is  it  not  sweet  and  true  ? 


XTbere  is  /IDuslc  \>^  tbe  IRivet, 

There  is  music  by  the  river, 

And  music  by  the  sea. 
And  music  in  the  waterfall 

That  gusheth  glad  and  free. 


THERE  IS  MUSIC  B  Y  THE  RIVER.  339 


There  is  music  in  the  brooklet 

That  singeth  all  alone, 
There  is  music  in  the  fountain 

With  its  silver-tinkling  tone. 

But  the  music  of  thy  spirit 

Is  sweeter  far  to  me 
Than  the  melody  of  rivers, 

Or  the  anthems  of  the  sea. 
Why  should  I  dwell  in  silence 

When  the  music  is  so  near 
That  may  overflow  my  spirit 
So  full,  so  clear  ! 
Oh  !  let  me  listen  \ 

There  is  music  in  the  forest, 

A  myriad-voiced  song  ; 
And  music  on  the  mountains 

As  the  great  winds  rush  along  : 
There  is  music  in  the  gladness 

Of  morning's  merry  light, 
And  in  silence  of  the  noontide, 

And  in  hush  of  starry  night 

But  a  deeper,  holier  music 
Is  the  music  of  thy  soul, 
And  I  think  the  angels  listen 

As  its  starry  echoes  roll. 
Why  should  I  dwell  in  silence 

When  the  music  that  is  thine 
May  overflow  my  spirit 

And  blend — with  mine  ! 
Oh  !  let  me  listen  ! 


340  S02VGS. 


•'Sbe  Sbfnino  %iQbt,  tbat  sMnetb  more  anb 
more  unto  tbe  perfect  H)a^.' 

Prov.  iv.  i8. 

A  YEAR  ago  the  gold  light 

Sweet  morning  made  for  me  j 
A  tender  and  untold  light, 

Like  music  on  the  sea. 
Light  and  music  twining 

In  melodious  glory, 
A  rare  and  radiant  shining 

On  my  changing  story. 

To-day  the  golden  sunlight 

Is  full  and  broad  and  strong ; 
The  glory  of  the  One  light 

Must  overflow  in  song ; 
Song  that  floweth  ever, 

Sweeter  every  day, 
Song  whose  echoes  never, 

Never  die  away. 

How  shall  the  light  be  clearer 

That  is  so  bright  to-day  ? 
How  shall  the  hope  be  dearer 

That  pours  such  joyous  ray? 
I  am  only  waiting 

For  the  answer  golden, 
What  faith  is  antedating 

Shall  not  be  withholden. 


TWILIGHT  VOICES.  341 


(BolDen  XaiiC). 

Far  from  home  alone  I  wander 

Over  mountain  and  pathless  wave, 
But  the  fair  land  that  shineth  yonder 

Claimeth  the  love  that  erst  it  gave. 
Golden  Land,  so  far,  so  nearing ! 

Land  of  those  who  wait  for  me  ! 
Ever  brighter  the  vision  cheering, 

Golden  Land,  I  haste  to  thee  ! 

On  my  path  a  golden  sunlight 
Softly  falls  where'er  I  roam. 

And  I  know  it  is  the  one  li2;ht 
Both  of  exile  and  of  home. 

Golden  Land,  so  far,  so  near, 

On  my  heart  engraven  clear. 

Though  I  wander  from  strand  to  strand, 

Dwells  my  heart  in  that  Golden  Land. 

XTwilfgbt  y^oXczQ. 

(in  illness.) 

What  are  the  whispering  voices 

That  awake  at  twilight  fall  ? 
Do  they  come  from  the  golden  sunset 

With  their  haunting,  haunting  call  ? 
They  tell  me  of  breezy  spring-timec, 

And  of  dreamy  summer  eves, 
And  of  snow-wreaths  merrily  shaken 

From  the  shining  ivy  leaves. 


342  SONGS. 


But  the  far-off  treble  change th 

To  a  tenor  tone,  and  so 
I  know  that  the  voices  tell  me 
Only  of  long  ago. 

I  hear  you,  I  hear  you, 

In  the  gentle  twilight  fall 
Come  to  me,  come ! 

With  your  haunting,  haunting  call. 

What  are  the  tuneful  voices 

That  awake  at  early  dawn  ? 
Do  they  come  from  the  orient  portals 

Of  the  palace  of  the  morn  ? 
They  tell  of  a  Golden  City 

With  pearl  and  jasper  bright. 
And  of  shining  forms  that  beckon 

From  the  pure  and  dazzling  light. 
Then  a  rush  of  far-off  harpings 
Blends  with  the  voices  clear, 
And  I  know  that  the  night  is  passing, 
And  I  know  that  the  day  is  near ! 
I  hear  you,  I  hear  you. 

Sweet  voices  of  the  dawn  I 
Come  to  me,  come  ! 
In  the  early,  early  morn. 


Hymns. 


A  PRAYER.  345 


Ipra^er  before  CburcD. 

Lord,  I  am  in  Thy  house  of  prayer, 
Oh,  teach  me  rightly  how  to  pray ; 
Incline  to  me  Thy  gracious  ear. 
And  listen,  Lord,  to  what  I  say. 

Give  me,  O  Lord,  a  praying  heart, 
And  also  an  attentive  ear ; 
Help  me  to  choose  the  better  part, 
And  teach  me  Thee  to  love  and  fear. 


B  ipra^er. 

Lord,  in  mercy  pardon  me 
All  that  I  this  day  have  done  : 
Sins  of  every  kind  'gainst  Thee, 
O  forgive  them  through  Thy  Son. 

Make  me,  Jesus,  like  to  Thee, 
Gentle,  holy,  meek,  and  mild, 
My  transgressions  pardon  me, 
O  forgive  a  sinful  child. 


346  HYMNS. 


Gracious  Spirit,  listen  Thou, 
Enter  in  my  willing  heart, 
Enter  and  possess  it  now, 
Never,  Lord,  from  me  depart. 

O  eternal  Three  in  One, 
Condescend  to  bend  Thine  ear; 
Help  me  still  towards  heaven  to  run, 
Answer  now  my  humble  prayer. 


On  entering  church  when  the  sunshine  streamed  through  the  large 
window,  so  that  its  outline  was  completely  lost  in  the  overpowering 
brilliance. 

Oh,  Thou,  the  Sun  of  Righteousness, 
Whose  bright  rays  every  cloud  dispel, 
E'en  yon  fair  brilliance  is  far  less 
Than  that  wherein  Thou  aye  dost  dwell 

Oh,  Thou,  my  precious  Saviour,  shine 
In  all  Thy  radiance  on  my  soul ; 
Oh,  let  me  know  what  love  is  Thine, 
Oh,  let  me  reach  this  long-sought  goal. 


To  me,  to  me  Thy  glory  show, 
Shall  ever  be  my  earnest  prayer ; 
Grant  me  to  leave  the  things  below, 
And  in  that  perfect  bliss  to  share, 


*  HE  THA  T  0  VER  COME  TH. '  347 


Which  to  Thy  faithful  ones  is  given. 
Oh,  let  Thy  glory  on  me  beam, 
And  let  me  taste  the  joys  of  heaven, 
Before  the  close  of  life's  strange  dream. 

Soon,  Lord,  reveal  Thyself  to  me ; 
How  long  must  I  thus  sadly  wait  ? 
My  spirit  yearns  Thyself  to  see, 
Oh,  hear  me  in  Thy  mercy  great ! 


*  Ibe  tbat  ®v?ercometb,' 

Rev.  iii.  5. 

•  He  that  overcometh  in  the  fight 

Shall  be  clothed  in  raiment  white  and  pure ; 

In  the  ever-blessbd  book  of  life 

Shall  his  name  eternally  endure.' 

'  When  my  Father  on  His  dazzling  throne 
Sits,  with  myriad  angels  all  around, 
I'll  confess  his  name,  to  men  unknown ; 
Heaven  and  earth  shall  listen  to  the  sound.' 

Who,  with  such  a  glorious  end  in  view. 
Would  not  in  the  heavenly  conflict  join  ? 
Strange  that  willing  soldiers  are  so  few, 
Strange  so  many  faint,  who  once  were  Thine. 

Oh,  it  is  a  service  blest  indeed ! 
Though  the  strife  be  long,  the  end  is  sure  ,• 
And  our  Leader  gives  to  all  who  need 
Grace  that  they  may  to  the  end  endure. 


348  HYMNS. 


'Neath  Thy  standard  be  my  place,  O  Lord  : 
Grant  me  strength  and  grace,  that  I  ere  long 
May  obtain  that  rich  and  full  reward. 
Then,  as  conquering  I  sheath  my  sword, 
Thou,  my  Captain,  shall  be  all  my  song. 


H  Song  of  Melcome, 

(for  the  ST.  NICHOLAS  SUNDAY  SCHOOL.) 

Oh  God,  with  grateful  hearts  we  come 

Thy  goodness  to  adore. 
While  we  our  Pastor  welcome  home 

To  England's  happy  shore. 

For  Thy  delivering  love  we  praise, 
And  Thy  restoring  hand, — 

Oh  spare  him  yet  for  long,  long  days 
To  this  our  little  band. 


Thy  Spirit's  fulness  on  him  rest, 
Thy  love  his  sunshine  be  ! 

And  may  he  still,  while  doubly  blest, 
A  blessing  be  from  Thee. 


When  the  Chief  Shepherd  shall  appear 

May  he  receive,  we  pray, 
A  crown  of  glory  bright  and  clear 

That  fadeth  not  away. 


HYMNS.  349 


'  The  Lord  is  gracious  and  full  of  compassion,  slow  to  anger  and  of 
great  mercy,' — Ps.  cxlv.  8. 

The  Lord  is  gracious — full  of  grace 

To  those  who  seek  through  Christ  His  face  j 

O  come  then,  sinner,  taste  and  see 

The  fulness  of  His  love  for  thee. 

Full  of  compassion  is  His  heart, 
Each  weary  sigh,  each  rankling  smart 
Is  known  to  Him  whom  we  adore, 
The  Saviour  who  our  sorrows  bore. 

To  anger  slow  !  though  every  hour 
Provoking  His  destroying  power ; 
How  strange,  such  words  of  peace  to  give, 
Through  Him  who  died  that  we  might  live. 

Great  mercy  !    Yet  another  seal 
To  all  His  gracious  words  reveal ; 
Great  mercy  for  the  greatly  stained. 
For  those  who  mercy  long  disdained. 

We  little  know  God's  thoughts  to  man, 
They  are  too  great  for  us  to  scan  : 
Thou  art  too  high  and  we  too  low, 
The  wonders  of  Thy  love  to  know. 

But  crown  Thy  mercies,  Lord,  and  send 
Thy  Spirit  as  our  Teacher-Friend; 
That  we  may  see,  and  feel,  and  praise 
The  grace  and  love  of  all  Thy  ways  ! 


350  HYMNS. 


'  The  Spirit  proceeding  from  the  Father  and  the  Son.' 

O  Spirit  of  our  Triune  Lord, 

Known  by  Thy  might,  unseen  but  felt, 
Be  Thy  sweet  influence  now  outpoured, 

With  power  to  rouse,  with  love  to  melt. 

O  Holy  One,  who  dost  proceed 
Both  from  the  Father  and  the  Son, 

Reveal  to  us  our  sin  and  need, 

And  what  our  Saviour  Christ  hath  done. 

O  Thou,  whose  love,  exceeding  great, 
Sent  Thine  own  Son  to  bleed  and  die, 

For  Thy  good  Spirit's  power  we  wait, 
Thy  glorious  grace  to  testify. 


IFlew  3^eat  1bpmn. 

Jesus,  blessbd  Saviour, 
Help  us  now  to  raise 
Songs  of  glad  thanksgiving, 

Songs  of  holy  praise. 
O  how  kind  and  gracious 
Thou  hast  always  been  ! 
O  how  many  blessings 
Every  day  has  seen  ! 
Jesus,  blessed  Saviour, 

Now  our  praises  hear, 

For  Thy  grace  and  favour 

Crowning  all  the  year. 


NEW  YEAR  HYMN.  351 


Jesus,  holy  Saviour, 

Only  Thou  canst  tell 
How  we  often  stumbled, 

How  we  often  fell ! 
All  our  sins  (so  many  !), 

Saviour,  Thou  dost  know ; 
In  Thy  blood  most  precious, 
Wash  us  white  as  snow. 
Jesus,  blessed  Saviour, 
Keep  us  in  Thy  fear, 
Let  Thy  grace  and  favour 
Pardon  all  the  year. 


Jesus,  loving  Saviour, 

Only  Thou  dost  know 
All  that  may  befall  us 

As  we  onward  go. 
So  we  humbly  pray  Thee, 

Take  us  by  the  hand, 
Lead  us  ever  upward 
To  the  Better  Land. 
Jesus,  blessbd  Saviour, 

Keep  us  ever  near, 
Let  Thy  grace  and  favour 
Shield  us  all  the  year. 


Jesus,  precious  Saviour, 
Make  us  all  Thine  own, 

Make  us  Thine  for  ever, 
Make  us  Thine  alone. 


352  HYMNS. 


Let  each  day,  each  moment, 

Of  this  glad  New-year, 
Be  for  Jesus  only, 
Jesus,  Saviour  dear. 

Then,  O  blessed  Saviour, 

Never  need  we  fear, 
For  Thy  grace  and  favour 
Crown  our  bright  New-year  I 

1b^mn  tou  ^relaut), 

'  The  isles  shall  wait  upon  Me,  and  on  Mine  arm  shall  they  trust.' 

— ISA.  li.  s. 

Father,  we  would  plead  Thy  promise,  bending  at  Thy 

glorious  throne, 
That  the  isles  shall  wait  upon  Thee,  trusting  in  Thine  arm 

alone ! 
One  bright  isle  we  bring  before  Thee,  while  in  faith  Thy 

children  pray 
For  a  full  and  mighty  blessing,  with  united  voice  to-day. 

Gracious  Saviour,  look  in  mercy  on  this  Island  of  the  West, 
Win  the  wandering  and  the  weary  with  Thy  pardon  and 

Thy  rest : 
As  the  only  Friend  and  Saviour  let  Thy  blessed  name  be 

owned. 
Who  hast  shed  Thy  blood  most  precious,  and  for  ever  hast 

atoned  ! 

Blessed  Spirit,  lift  Thy  standard,  pour  Thy  grace,  and  shed 

Thy  light ! 
Lift  the  veil  and  loose  the  fetter ;  come  with  new  and 

quickening  might ; 


CHUR  CH  MISS  ION  A  R  Y  JUBILEE  H  YAIN.         3  5  3 

Make  the  desert  places  blossom,  shower  Thy  sevenfold 

gifts  abroad ; 
Make  Thy  servants  wise  and  stedfast,  valiant  for  the  truth 

of  God. 

Triune  God  of  grace  and  glory,  be  the  isle  for  which  we 

plead 
Shielded,  succoured  with  Thy  blessing,  strong  in  every 

hour  of  need ; 
Flooded  with  Thy  truth  and  glory  (glowing  sunlight  from 

above), 
And  encompassed   with  the  ocean  of  Thine  everlasting 

love. 

Oh,  surround  Thy  throne  of  power  with  Thine  emerald 

bow  of  peace  : 
Bid  the  wailing,  and  the  warring,  and  the  wild  confusion 

cease. 
Thou  remainest  King  for  ever, — Thou  shalt  feign,  and 

earth  adore  ! 
Thine  the  kingdom,  Thine  the  power,  Thine  the  glory 

evermore. 


Cburcb  /iftfssionar^  JubHcc  IFD^inn. 

•  He  shall  see  of  the  travail  of  His  soul,  and  shall  be  satisfied, '- 

ISA.  liii.  II, 

Rejoice  with  Jesus  Christ  to-day, 
All  ye  who  love  His  holy  sway  1 
The  travail  of  His  soul  is  past, 
He  shall  be  satisfied  at  last. 


354  HYMNS. 


Rejoice  with  Him,  rejoice  indeed, 
For  He  shall  see  His  chosen  seed ! 
But  ours  the  trust,  the  grand  employ, 
To  work  out  this  divinest  joy. 

Of  all  His  own  He  loseth  none, 
They  shall  be  gathered  one  by  one  ; 
He  gathereth  the  smallest  grain, 
His  travail  shall  not  be  in  vain. 

Arise  and  work  !  arise  and  pray 
That  He  would  haste  the  dawning  day  ! 
And  let  the  silver  trumpet  sound, 
Wherever  Satan's  slaves  are  found. 

The  vanquished  foe  shall  soon  be  stilled^ 
The  conquering  Saviour's  joy  fulfilled, 
Fulfilled  in  us,  fulfilled  in  them, 
His  crown,  His  royal  diadem. 


Soon,  soon  our  waiting  eyes  shall  see  J 

The  Saviour's  mighty  Jubilee  1  \ 

His  harvest-joy  is  filling  fast,  i 

He  shall  be  satisfied  at  last !  j 


Ubp  I'atber  mafts  for  ^bee. 

Wanderer  from  thy  Father's  home, 

So  full  of  sin,  so  far  away, 
Wilt  thou  uny  longer  roam  ? 

Oh,  wilt  thou  not  return  to-day  ? 


WILL   YOU  NOT  COMEt  355 


Wilt  thou  ?     Oh,  He  knows  it  all, 
Thy  Father  sees,  He  meets  thee  here  I 

Wilt  thou  ?     Hear  His  tender  call, 
'  Return,  return  ! '  while  He  is  near. 

He  is  here !     His  loving  voice 

Hath  reached  thee,  though  so  far  away  1 
He  is  waiting  to  rejoice, 

O  wandering  one,  o'er  thee  to-day. 
Waiting,  waiting  to  bestow 

His  perfect  pardon,  full  and  free  j 
Waiting,  waiting  till  thou  know 

His  wealth  of  love  for  thee,  for  thee  I 

Rise  and  go !     Thy  Father  waits 

To  welcome  and  receive  and  bless  ; 
Thou  shalt  tread  His  palace  gates 

In  royal  robe  of  righteousness. 
Thine  shall  be  His  heart  of  love. 

And  thine  His  smile,  and  thine  His  homcj 
Thine  His  joy,  all  joys  above — 

O  wandering  child,  no  longer  roam  I 


Mill  330U  not  Come? 

Will  you  not  come  to  Him  for  Life  ) 

Why  will  ye  die,  oh,  why  ? 
He  gave  His  life  for  you,  for  you ! 
The  gift  is  free,  the  word  is  true  ! 

Will  you  not  come?  oh,  why  will  you  die? 


356  HYMNS. 


Will  you  not  come  to  Him  for  Peace  ? 

Peace  through  His  cross  alone ! 
He  shed  His  precious  blood  for  you ; 
The  gift  is  free,  the  word  is  true ! 

He  is  our  Peace — oh,  is  He  your  own  ? 


Will  you  not  come  to  Him  for  Jiest  f 

All  that  are  weary,  come  ! 
The  rest  He  gives  is  deep  and  true, 
'T  is  offered  now,  't  is  offered  you  ! 

Rest  in  His  love  and  rest  in  His  home. 


Will  you  not  come  to  Him  iox  Joy'i 

Will  you  not  come  for  this  ? 
He  laid  His  joys  aside  for  you, 
To  give  you  joy  so  sweet,  so  true  : 

Sorrowing  heart,  oh,  drink  of  the  bliss  I 


Will  you  not  come  to  Him  for  Love, 

Love  that  can  fill  the  heart  ? 
Exceeding  great,  exceeding  free  ! 
He  loveth  you,  He  loveth  me  ! 

Will  you  not  come  ?     Why  stand  you  apart  ? 

Will  you  not  come  to  Him  for  all  ? 

Will  you  not  '  taste  and  see  ? ' 
He  waits  to  give  it  all  to  you. 
The  gifts  are  free,  the  words  are  true ! 

Jesus  is  calling,  '  Come  unto  Me  1' 


WHAT  WILL  YOU  DO  WITHOUT  HIM  1  357 


Mbat  will  l^ou  C)o  witbout  1bim? 

I  COULD  not  do  without  Him  ! 

Jesus  is  more  to  me 
Than  all  the  richest,  fairest  gifts 

Of  earth  could  ever  be. 
But  the  more  I  find  Him  precious — 

And  the  more  I  find  Him  true — 
The  more  I  long  for  you  to  find 

What  He  can  be  to  you. 

You  need  not  do  without  Him, 

For  He  is  passing  by, 
He  is  waiting  to  be  gracious, 

Only  waiting  for  your  cry ; 
He  is  waiting  to  receive  you — 

To  make  you  all  His  own  ! 
Why  will  you  do  without  Him, 

And  wander  on  alone? 

Why  will  you  do  without  Him  ? 

Is  He  not  kind  indeed  ? 
Did  He  not  die  to  save  you  ? 

Is  He  not  all  you  need  ? 
Do  you  not  want  a  Saviour  ? 

Do  you  not  want  a  Friend  ? 
One  who  will  love  you  faithfully, 

And  love  you  to  the  end  ? 

Why  will  you  do  without  Him  ? 
The  word  of  God  is  true, 


358  HYMNS. 


The  world  is  passing  to  its  doom — 

And  you  are  passing  too. 
It  may  be  no  to-morrow 

Shall  dawn  on  you  or  me ; 
Why  will  you  run  the  awful  risk 

Of  all  eternity  ? 

What  will  you  do  without  Him, 

In  the  long  and  dreary  day 
Of  trouble  and  perplexity, 

When  you  do  not  know  the  way, 
And  no  one  else  can  help  you, 

And  no  one  guides  you  right, 
And  hope  comes  not  with  morning, 

And  rest  comes  not  with  night  ? 

You  could  not  do  without  Him, 

If  once  He  made  you  see 
The  fetters  that  enchain  you, 

Till  He  hath  set  you  free  : 
If  once  you  saw  the  fearful  load 

Of  sin  upon  your  soul — 
The  hidden  plague  that  ends  in  deaths 

Unless  He  makes  you  whole. 

What  will  you  do  without  Him 

When  death  is  drawing  near  ? 
Without  His  love — the  only  love 

That  casts  out  every  fear ; 
When  the  shadow-valley  opens, 

Unlighted  and  unknown, 
And  the  terrors  of  its  darkness 

Must  all  be  passed  alone ! 


WHAT  WILL   YOU  DO   WITHOUT  HIM?  359 


What  will  you  do  without  Him, 

When  the  great  white  throne  is  set, 
And  the  Judge  who  never  can  mistake, 

And  never  can  forget, — 
The  Judge  whom  you  have  never  here 

As  Friend  and  Saviour  sought, 
Shall  summon  you  to  give  account 

Of  deed  and  word  and  thought  ? 

What  will  you  do  without  Him, 

When  He  hath  shut  the  door, 
And  you  are  left  outside,  because 

You  would  not  come  before? 
When  it  is  no  use  knocking, 

No  use  to  stand  and  wait, 
For  the  word  of  doom  tolls  through  your  heart, 

That  terrible  *  Too  late ! ' 

You  cannot  do  without  Him 

There  is  no  other  Name 
By  which  you  ever  can  be  saved, 

No  way,  no  hope,  no  claim  ! 
Without  Him — everlasting  loss 

Of  love,  and  life,  and  light ! 
Without  Him — everlasting  woe. 

And  everlasting  night 

But  with  Him — oh  !  with  Jesus! 

Are  any  words  so  blest  ? 
With  Jesus,  everlasting  joy 

And  everlastiKig  rest ! 


36o  HYMNS. 


With  Jesus, — all  the  empty  heart 
Filled  with  His  perfect  love ; 

With  Jesus, — perfect  peace  below, 
And  perfect  bliss  above. 

Why  should  you  do  without  Him  ? 

It  is  not  yet  too  late  ; 
He  has  not  closed  the  day  of  grace, 

He  has  not  shut  the  gate. 
He  calls  you ! — hush  !     He  calls  you  I 

He  would  not  have  you  go 
Another  step  without  Him, 

Because  He  loves  you  so. 

He  would  not  do  without  you  ! 

He  calls  and  calls  again — ■ 
*  Come  unto  Me  !     Come  unto  Me  1' 

Oh,  shall  He  call  in  vain  ? 
He  wants  to  have  you  with  Him ; 

Do  you  not  want  Him  too  ? 
You  cannot  do  without  Him, 

And  He  wants — even  you. 


*  jfocafven— eveit  until  1Flow/ 

(Num.  xiv.  19.) 
FOR  NEW  year's  DAY  1879. 

*  Thou  hast  forgiven — even  until  now  ! ' 
We  bless  Thee,  Lord,  for  this, 

And  take  Thy  great  forgiveness  as  we  bow 
In  depth  of  sorrowing  bliss ; 


'  FORGIVEN—EVEN  UNTIL  NOW.*  361 

While  over  all  the  long,  regretful  past 

This  veil  of  wondrous  grace  Thy  sovereign  hand  doth  cast 

•  Forgiven  until  now  ! '     For  Jesus  died 

To  take  our  sins  away ; 
His  Blood  was  shed,  and  still  the  infinite  tide 
Flows  full  and  deep  to-day. 
He  paid  the  debt ;  we  own  it,  and  go  free ! 
The  cancelled  bond  is  cast  in  Love's  unfathomed  sea. 


*  Forgiven  until  now  !'     For  God  is  true, 

Faithful  and  just  is  He  ! 
Forgiving,  cleansing,  making  all  things  new ! 
'Who  isaGodhkeThee?' 
O  precious  blood  of  Christ,  that  saves  and  heals. 
While  all  its  cleansing  might  the  Holy  Ghost  reveals. 

Yes,  '  even  until  now  ! '     And  so  we  stand, 

Forgiven,  loved,  and  blessed ; 
And,  covered  in  the  shadow  of  God's  hand, 
Believing,  are  at  rest 
The  one  great  load  is  lifted  from  the  soul, 
That  henceforth  on  the  Lord  all  burdens  we  may  rolL 

Yes,  '  even  until  now  ! '     Then  let  us  press 

With  free  and  willing  feet 
Along  the  King's  highway  of  holiness, 
Until  we  gain  the  street 
Of  golden  crystal,  praising  purely  when 
We  see  our  pardoning  Lord  ;  forgiven  until  then  I 


36a  HYMNS. 


Ibe  1batb  Bone  it ! 


'  I  have  blotted  out,  as  a  thick  cloud,  thy  transgressions,  and,  as  a 
cloud,  thy  sins  :  return  unto  Me  ;  for  I  have  redeemed  thee.  Sing,  O  ye 
heavens  ;  for  the  Lord  hath  done  it.' — ISA.  xliv.  22,  23. 

'  I  know  that,  whatsoever  God  doeth,  it  shall  be  for  ever  :  nothing  can 
be  put  to  it,  nor  anything  taken  from  it' — EccLES.  iii.  14. 


Sing,  O  heavens !  the  Lord  hath  done  it ! 

Sound  it  forth  o'er  land  and  sea ! 
Jesus  says,  '  I  have  redeemed  thee, 

Now  return,  return  to  Me.' 
Oh  return,  for  His  own  life-blood 

Paid  the  ransom,  made  us  free 
Evermore  and  evermore. 

For  I  know  that  what  He  doeth 
Stands  for  ever,  fixed  and  true ; 

Nothing  can  be  added  to  it, 
Nothing  left  for  us  to  do ; 

Nothing  can  be  taken  from  it, 
Done  for  me  and  done  for  you, 
Evermore  and  evermore. 

Listen  now  !  the  Lord  hath  done  it ! 

For  He  loved  us  unto  death ; 
It  is  finished  !     He  has  saved  us ! 

Only  trust  to  what  He  saith. 
He  hath  done  it !     Come  and  bless  Him, 

Spend  in  praise  your  ransomed  breath 
Evermore  and  evermore. 


ASKING.  363 


O  believe  the  Lord  hath  done  it ! 

Wherefore  linger  ?  wherefore  doubt  ? 
All  the  cloud  of  black  transgression 

He  Himself  hath  blotted  out. 
He  hath  done  it !     Come  and  bless  Him, 

Swell  the  grand  thanksgiving  shout 
Evermore  and  evermore. 


Luke  xi.  13. 

O  Heavenly  Father,  Thou  hast  told 
Of  a  Gift  more  precious  than  pearls  and  gold 
A  Gift  that  is  free  to  every  one. 
Through  Jesus  Christ,  Thy  only  Son  : 
For  His  sake,  give  it  to  me. 


Oh,  give  it  to  me  !  for  Jesus  said. 
That  a  father  giveth  his  children  bread. 
And  how  much  more  Thou  wilt  surely  give 
The  Gift  by  which  the  dead  shall  live  1 
For  Christ's  sake,  give  it  to  me. 


If  Thou  hast  said  it,  I  must  believe 
It  is  only  *  ask '  and  I  shall  receive ; 
If  Thou  hast  said  it,  it  must  be  true. 
And  there's  nothing  else  for  me  to  do  1 
For  Christ's  sake,  give  it  to  me. 


364 


HYMNS. 


So  I  come  and  ask,  because  my  need 
Is  very  great  and  real  indeed. 
On  the  strength  of  Thy  word  I  come  and  say, 
Oh,  let  Thy  word  come  true  to-day  1 
For  Christ's  sake,  give  it  to  me  ! 


Xove  for  Xove* 

I  John  iv.  16. 

Knowing  that  the  God  on  high, 
With  a  tender  Father's  grace, 

Waits  to  hear  your  faintest  cry, 
Waits  to  show  a  Father's  face, — 

Stay  and  think  ! — oh,  should  not  you 

Love  this  gracious  Father  too  ? 

Knowing  Christ  was  crucified. 
Knowing  that  He  loves  you  now 

Just  as  much  as  when  He  died 
With  the  thorns  upon  His  brow, — 

Stay  and  think  ! — oh,  should  not  you 

Love  this  blessbd  Saviour  too  ? 


Knowing  that  a  Spirit  strives 

With  your  weary,  wandering  heart, 

Who  can  change  the  restless  lives, 
Pure  and  perfect  peace  impart, — 

Stay  and  think  ! — oh,  should  not  you 

Love  this  loving  Spirit  too  ? 


NOTHING  TO  PA  Y.  365 


IKlotbfno  to  ipa^» 

Nothing  to  pay  !    Ah,  nothing  to  pay  ! 
Never  a  word  of  excuse  to  say  ! 
Year  after  year  thou  hast  filled  the  score, 
Owing  thy  Lord  still  more  and  more. 

Hear  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 
'  Verily  thou  hast  nothing  to  pay  ! 
Ruined,  lost  art  thou,  and  yet 
I  forgave  thee  all  that  debt.' 

Nothing  to  pay  !  the  debt  is  so  great ; 
What  will  you  do  with  the  awful  weight  ? 
How  shall  the  way  of  escape  be  made  ? 
Nothing  to  pay  !  yet  it  must  be  paid  1 

Hear  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 
'  Verily  thou  hast  nothing  to  pay  ! 
All  has  been  put  to  My  account, 
I  have  paid  the  full  amount.' 

Nothing  to  pay  ;  yes,  nothing  to  pay  1 
Jesus  has  cleared  all  the  debt  away  ; 
Blotted  it  out  with  His  bleeding  hand  ! 
Free  and  forgiven  and  loved  you  stand. 

Hear  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 
'Verily  thou  hast  nothing  to  pay  ! 
Paid  is  the  debt,  and  the  debtor  free  I 
Now  I  ask  thce^  lovest  thou  Me  ? ' 


Christmas   Verses. 


A  HAPPY  CHRISTMAS.  369 


a  /iDerrie  Cbrfstmas. 

'  A  MERRiE  Christmas '  to  you  ! 

For  we  serve  the  Lord  with  mirth, 
And  we  carol  forth  glad  tidings 

Of  our  holy  Saviour's  birth. 
So  we  keep  the  olden  greeting 

With  its  meaning  deep  and  true, 
And  wish  *  a  merrie  Christmas ' 

And  a  happy  New  Year  to  youl 

Oh,  yes  !  '  a  merrie  Christmas,' 

With  blithest  song  and  smile, 
Bright  with  the  thought  of  Him  who  dwelt 

On  earth  a  little  while, 
That  we  might  dwell  for  ever 

Where  never  falls  a  tear : 
So  '  a  merrie  Christmas '  to  you, 

And  a  happy,  happy  year  ! 


B  Ibapp^  Cbilstmas* 

A  HAPPY  Christmas  to  you  ! 

For  the  Light  of  Life  is  born, 
And  His  coming  is  the  sunshine 

Of  the  dark  and  wintry  morn. 

2  A 


370  CHRISTMAS  VERSES. 

The  grandest  orient  glow  must  pale, 
The  loveliest  western  gleams  must  fail : 

But  His  great  Light, 

So  full,  so  bright, 
Ariseth  for  thy  heart  to-day ; 
His  shadow-conquering  beams  shall  never  pass 
away. 

A  happy  Christmas  to  you  ! 

For  the  Prince  of  Peace  is  come. 
And  His  reign  is  full  of  blessings, 

Their  very  crown  and  sum. 
No  earthly  calm  can  ever  last, 
'T  is  but  the  lull  before  the  blast : 
But  His  great  peace 
Shall  still  increase 
In  mighty,  all-rejoicing  sway; 
His  kingdom  in  thy  heart  shall  never  pass  away. 


®ut  Saviour  Cbdst  was  Born, 

Our  Saviour  Christ  was  born 
That  we  might  have  the  rose  without  the  thorn  ; 

All  through  His  desert  life 
He  felt  the  thorns  of  human  sin  and  strife. 

His  blessed  feet  were  bare 
To  every  hurting  brier ;  He  did  not  spare 
One  bleeding  footstep  on  the  way 
He  came  to  trace  for  us,  until  the  day 
The  cruel  crown  was  pressed  upon  the  Brow, 
That  smiles  upon  us  from  His  glory  now. 


CHRISTMAS  GIFTS.  yj\ 

And  so  He  won  for  us 
Sweet,  thornless,  everlasting  flowers  thus  i 

He  bids  our  desert  way 
Rejoice  and  blossom  as  the  rose  to-day. 

There  is  no  hidden  thorn 
In  His  good  gifts  of  grace ;  He  would  adorn 
The  lives  that  now  are  His  alone, 
With  brightness  and  with  beauty  all  His  OAvn. 
Then  praise  the  Lord  who  came  on  Christmas  Day 
To  give  the  rose  and  take  the  thorns  away. 


Cbristmas  (Bifts, 

'  Thou  hast  received  gifts  for  men. '— Ps.  Ixviii.  i8. 

Christmas  gifts  for  thee. 
Fair  and  free ! 
Precious  things  from  the  heavenly  store, 
Filling  thy  casket  more  and  more ; 
Golden  love  in  divinest  chain, 
That  never  can  be  untwined  again ; 
Silvery  carols  of  joy  that  swell 
Sweetest  of  all  in  the  heart's  lone  cell ; 
Pearls  of  peace  that  were  sought  for  thee 
In  the  terrible  depths  of  a  fiery  sea; 
Diamond  promises  sparkling  bright, 
Flashing  in  farthest  reaching  light. 

Christmas  gifts  for  thee, 
Grand  and  free ! 
Christmas  gifts  from  the  King  of  love, 
JBrought  from  His  royal  home  above  j 


372  CHRISTMAS  VERSES. 

Brought  to  thee  in  the  far-off  land, 
Brought  to  thee  by  His  own  dear  hand. 
Promises  held  by  Christ  for  thee, 
Peace  as  a  river  flowing  free, 
Joy  that  in  His  own  joy  must  live, 
And  love  that  Infinite  Love  can  give. 
Surely  thy  heart  of  hearts  uplifts 
Carols  of  praise  for  such  Christmas  gifts  ! 


Cbdstmas  /IDottoes. 

Unto  you  the  Child  is  born, 
On  this  blessed  Christmas  morn. 
Unto  you,  to  be  your  Peace ; 

Unto  you,  for  He  hath  found  you ; 
Unto  you,  with  full  release 

From  the  weary  chains  that  bound  you  • 
Unto  you,  that  you  may  rise 
Unto  Him  above  the  skies. 

>-«-< 


The  wilderness  shall  rejoice. 

And  the  wintry  waste  shall  sing, 
At  the  wakening  herald  voice 

Of  the  coming  of  the  King. 
So  the  sparkling  Christmas  snow 

Is  dearer  than  summer  light ; 
For  He  whom  we  love  came  down  below 

In  the  hush  of  a  Christmas  night. 


CHRISTMAS  MOTTOES.  373 

May  thy  Christmas  morning  break 

Holy  and  bright  and  calm ; 
And  may  all  thy  life  for  His  dear  sake 

Be  a  joyful  Christmas  psalm. 

>-*<. 


Is  it  a  wintry  night  ? 

Watch  !  for  the  heavenly  light 
Shineth,  O  mourner,  around  and  above  ! 

Tidings  of  joy  to  thee 

Float  on  the  minstrelsy  ! 
Rise  up  and  welcome  the  Son  of  His  love. 


>*< 


'  Behold,  thy  King  cometh  unto  thee." — Zech.  ix.  9. 

Cometh  in  lowliness, 

Cometh  in  righteousness, 
Cometh  in  mercy  all  royal  and  free  ! 

Cometh  with  grace  and  might, 

Cometh  with  love  and  light ; 
Cometh,  belovbd  !     He  cometh  to  thee  ! 


>•< 


Bright  be  thy  Christmas  tide  ! 

Carol  it  far  and  wide, 
Jesus,  the  King  and  the  Saviour,  is  come  1 

Jesus  thy  guest  will  be ; 

O  let  Him  dwell  with  thee  ! 
Open  thy  heart  for  His  palace  and  home. 


374  CHRISTMAS  VERSES. 

What  do  the  angels  sing? 

What  is  the  word  they  bring  ? 
What  is  the  music  of  Christmas  again  ? 

Glad  tidings  still  to  thee, 

Peace  and  good-will  to  thee, 
Glory  to  God  in  the  highest !     Amen. 


>»"< 


Oh,  Christmas  blessings  cannot  cease, 
Christmas  joy  is  deep  and  strong ! 

For  Christ  is  come  to  be  our  Peace, 
Our  Salvation  and  our  Song. 


dbrfstmas  6itt9. 

The  wondrous  love  and  light, 

The  fulness  and  the  glory, 
The  meaning  and  the  might 

Of  all  the  Christmas  story, 
May  Christ  Himself  unfold  to  you  to-day, 
And  bid  you  go  rejoicing  on  your  way. 


->•  < 


A  HAPPY,  happy  Christmas 

Be  yours  to-day ! 
Oh,  not  the  failing  measure 
Of  fleeting  earthly  pleasure. 
But  Christmas  joy  abiding, 
While  years  are  swiftly  gliding, 

Be  yours,  I  pray, 
Through  Him  who  gave  us  Christmas  Day ! 


CHRISTMAS  SUNSHINE.  375 

A  BRIGHT  and  blessed  Christmas  Da)', 

With  echoes  of  the  angels'  song, 
And  peace  that  cannot  pass  away, 

And  holy  gladness,  calm  and  strong, 
And  sweet  heart  carols,  flowing  free  ! 
This  is  my  Christmas  wish  to  thee ! 


>>< 


Down  the  ages  hoary 

Peals  the  song  of  glory, 

Peace,  and  God's  good-will ! 

Other  echoes  die  away, 

But  the  song  of  Christmas  Day 

Echoes  from  the  Judean  hill, 

Ever  clearer,  louder  still. 

Oh,  may  its  holy,  heavenly  chime 

Make  all  thy  hfe  a  Christmas  time  I 


Cbristmas  Sunsbine. 

Do  the  angels  know  the  blessed  day, 

And  strike  their  harps  anew? 
Then  may  the  echo  of  their  lay 

Float  sweetly  down  to  you, 
And  fill  your  soul  with  Christmas  song 
That  your  heart  shall  echo  your  whole  life  long. 

>^-< 


Jesus  came  ! — and  came  for  me  ! 

Simple  words  !  and  yet  expressing 
Depths  of  holy  mystery. 

Depths  of  wondrous  love  and  blessing. 


376  CHRISTMAS  VERSES. 


Holy  Spirit,  make  me  see 
All  His  coming  means  for  me ; 
Take  the  things  of  Christ,  I  pray, 
Show  them  to  my  heart  to-day. 


->-♦-<- 


Oh,  let  thy  heart  make  melody, 

And  thankful  songs  uplift, 
For  Christ  Himself  is  come  to  bd 

Thy  glorious  Christmas  gift. 

>^^ 

A  HAPPY,  happy  Christmas, 

And  a  happy,  happy  year ! 
Oh,  we  have  not  deserved  it, 

And  yet  we  need  not  fear. 
For  Jesus  has  deserved  it, 

And  so,  for  Jesus'  sake, 
This  cup  of  joy  and  blessing 

With  grateful  hand  we  take. 

>♦-< 

There  is  silence  high  in  the  midnight  sky. 
And  only  the  sufferers  watch  the  night ; 

But  long  ago  there  was  song  and  glow. 

And  a  message  of  joy  from  the  Prince  of  Light, 

And  the  Christmas  song  of  the  messenger-throng 

The  echoes  of  life  shall  for  ever  prolong, 
>-♦-< 

Great  is  the  mystery 

Of  wondrous  grace, 
God  manifest  we  see 

In  Jesu's  face. 


CHRISTMAS  SUNSHINE.  yjl 

O  deepest  mystery 

Of  Love  Divine, 
God  manifest  for  me, 

And  Jesus  mine ! 

>-♦-< 


What  was  the  first  angelic  word 

That  the  startled  shepherds  heard  ? — 

*  Fear  not ! '     Beloved,  it  comes  to  you 

As  a  Christmas  message  most  sweet  and  true, 

As  true  for  you  as  it  was  for  them 

In  the  lonely  fields  of  Bethlehem  ; 

And  as  sweet  to-day  as  it  was  that  night, 

When  the  glory  dazzled  their  mortal  sight. 


■»•  ^ 


Christ  is  come  to  be  my  Friend, 
Leading,  loving  to  the  end ; 

Christ  is  come  to  be  my  King, 
Ordering,  ruling  everything. 

Christ  is  come  !     Enough  for  me, 

Lonely  though  the  pathway  be. 


>•< 


Give  me  a  song,  O  Lord, 
That  I  may  sing  to  Thee, 

In  true  and  sweet  accord 
With  angel  minstrelsy. 

Oh,  tune  my  heart  that  it  may  bring 

A  Christmas  anthem  to  my  King. 


378  CHRISTMAS  VERSES. 

Swell  the  notes  of  the  Christmas  Song ! 
Sound  it  forth  through  the  earth  abroad  ! 

Glory  to  God ! 
Blessing  and  honour,  thanks  and  laud ! 
Take  the  joy  of  the  Christmas  Song  ! 
Are  not  the  tidings  good  and  true? 

Peace  to  you, 
And  God's  good-will  that  is  ever  nev/ 1 

>-«-« 


Christ  is  come  to  be  thy  light. 
Shining  through  the  darkest  night : 
He  will  make  thy  pilgrim  way 
Shine  unto  the  perfect  day. 
Take  the  message  !  let  it  be 
Full  of  Christmas  joy  to  thee ! 


TITLES  OF  CHRIST.  379 


TITLES  OF  CHRIST. 
Mon&evful» 

'  For  unto  us  a  child  is  bom,  unto  us  a  son  is  given  ;  and  the  govern- 
ment shall  be  upon  His  shoulder:  and  His  Name  shall  be  called 
Wonderful,  Counsellor,  The  Mighty  God,  The  Everlasting  Father,  The 
Prince  of  Peace." — Isa.  ix.  6. 

Wonderful  !  Wonderful ! 

Ring  out  the  Name,  O  Christmas  chimes  ! 

Wonderful !  Wonderful ! 
Echo  the  word  to  farthest  climes  ! 
May  the  splendour  of  this  great  Name 
Shine  and  glow  with  a  mighty  flame, 
Filling  thy  life  with  its  glorious  rays, 
Filling  thy  spirit  with  Christmas  praise. 


Counsellor* 

Mist  and  cloud  and  darkness 
Veil  the  wintry  hour, 

But  the  sun  dispels  them 
With  his  rising  power. 

Mist  and  cloud  and  darkness 

Often  dim  thy  day, 
But  a  Christmas  glory 

Shines  upon  thy  way. 


38o  CHRISTMAS  VERSES. 

May  the  Lord  of  Christmas, 
Counsellor  and  Friend, 

Light  thy  desert  pathway 
Even  to  the  end. 


Ube  Bvetlastfng  ifatbcr. 

O  Name  of  gentlest  grace, 

O  Name  of  strength  and  might, 
Meeting  the  heart-need  of  our  orphaned  race 

With  tenderest  delight ! 
Our  Everlasting  Father  !     This  is  He 
Who  came  in  deep  humility 

A  little  child  to  be  1 


Ube  /IDigbt^  (BoD. 

The  Christmas  bells  proclaim 
His  glorious  name, 
'The  Mighty  God!' 

God  manifest  indeed, 


And  yet  the  Woman's  Seed, 

To  whom  we  sing 
All  glory,  praise,  and  laud  ! 

Divinest  Lord  and  King. 


TITLES  OF  CHRIST.  38I 


Ube  prince  ot  ipeace, 

O  Name  of  beauty  and  of  calm  ! 

O  Name  of  rest  and  balm, 

Of  exquisite  delight, 
And  yet  of  sovereignty  and  might ! 
Let  it  make  music  in  thy  heart  to-day, 
And  bid  thee  go  rejoicing  on  thy  way ; 
For  Jesus  is  thy  Peace,  thy  Prince  of  Peace, 
Whose  reign  within  thy  heart  shall  evermore  increase. 


flftan  of  IRest 

•  Behold,  a  son  shall  be  born  to  thee,  who  shall  be  a  man  of  rest.' 
— I  Chron.  xxii.  9. 

Hail,  Christmas  morn ! 

For  unto  us  the  Son  is  born. 
The  Man  of  Rest ! 
The  weary  quest 
Is  over  now,  for  He  who  cometh,  calleth, 
*  Come  unto  Me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest !  * 

The  still  voice  falleth 
On  hearts  that,  listening,  are  blessed. 

And  daily  shall  the  blessing  flow, 

And  daily  shall  the  gladness  gro'^^. 
For  we  which  have  believed  do  enter  into  rest 


New  Year   Verses. 


ANOTHER  YEAR. 


5S5 


H  Ibapp^  mew  l^ear  to  J^ou, 

New  mercies,  new  blessings,  new  light  on  thy  way ;  ■ 

New  courage,  new  hope,  and  new  strength  for  each  day ; 

New  notes  of  thanksgiving,  new  chords  of  delight. 

New  praise  in  the  morning,  new  songs  in  the  night ; 

New  wine  in  thy  chalice,  new  altars  to  raise ; 

New  fruits  for  thy  Master,  new  garments  of  praise ; 

New  gifts  from  His  treasures,  new  smiles  from  His  face  j 

New  streams  from  the  fountain  of  infinite  grace ; 

New  stars  for  thy  crown,  and  new  tokens  of  love ; 

New  gleams  of  the  glory  that  waits  thee  above ; 

New  light  of  His  countenance  full  and  unpriced  ;^. 

All  this  be  the  joy  of  thy  new  life  in  Christ ! 


Bnotber  l^ear* 

Another  year  is  dawning  I 

Dear  Master,  let  it  be. 
In  working  or  in  waiting, 

Another  year  with  Thee. 

Another  year  of  leaning 

Upon  Thy  loving  breast, 
Of  ever-deepening  trustfulness, 

Of  quiet,  happy  rest 

Another  year  of  mercies, 
Of  faithfulness  and  grace  ; 

2  B 


386  NEW  YEAR   VERSES. 


Another  year  of  gladness 
In  the  shining  of  Thy  face. 

Another  year  of  progress, 
Another  year  of  praise ; 

Another  year  of  proving 
Thy  presence  '  all  the  days.' 

Another  year  of  service, 
Of  witness  for  Thy  love  j 

Another  year  of  training 
For  holier  work  above. 

Another  year  is  dawning, 
Dear  Master,  let  it  be, 

On  earth,  or  else  in  heaven, 
Another  year  for  Thee  ! 


jfaxtbful  ipromtses. 

ISA.  xli.  lO. 

Nev/  year's  hymn. 

Standing  at  the  portal 

Of  the  opening  year, 
Words  of  comfort  meet  us. 

Hushing  every  fear ; 
Spoken  through  the  silence 

By  our  Father's  voice, 
Tender,  strong,  and  faithfuL 

Making  us  rejoice. 
Onward  then,  and  fear  not, 

Children  of  the  day  ! 
For  His  word  shall  never, 

Never  pass  away! 


FAITHFUL  PROMISES.  387 

I,  the  Lord,  am  mth  thee, 

Be  thou  not  afraid ! 
I  will  help  and  strengthen. 

Be  thou  not  dismayed ! 
Yea,  I  will  uphold  thee 

With  my  own  right  hand ; 
Thou  art  called  and  chosen 

In  my  sight  to  stand. 
Onward  then,  and  fear  not, 

Children  of  the  day ! 
For  His  word  shall  never. 

Never  pass  away ! 

For  the  year  before  us, 

Oh,  what  rich  supplies  1 
For  the  poor  and  needy 

Living  streams  shall  rise :, 
For  the  sad  and  sinful 

Shall  His  grace  abound ; 
For  the  faint  and  feeble 

Perfect  strength  be  found 
Onward  then,  and  fear  not, 

Children  of  the  day ! 
For  His  word  shall  never, 

Never  pass  away  1 

He  will  never  fail  us, 

He  will  not  forsake ; 
His  eternal  covenant 

He  will  never  break ! 
Resting  on  His  promise. 

What  have  we  to  fear? 


388  NEW  YEAR   VERSES. 

God  is  all-sufficient 
For  the  coming  year. 

Onward  then,  and  fear  not, 
Children  of  the  day  ! 

For  His  word  shall  never, 
Never  pass  away  I 


IRew  l^ear's  Mfsbes. 

What  shall  I  wish  thee  ? 

Treasures  of  earth  ? 
Songs  in  the  spring-time, 

Pleasure  and  mirth  ? 
Flowers  on  thy  pathway, 

Skies  ever  clear  ? 
Would  this  ensure  thee 

A  Happy  New  Year? 

What  shall  I  wish  thee  ? 

What  can  be  found 
Bringing  thee  sunshine 

All  the  year  round  ? 
Where  is  the  treasure, 

Lasting  and  dear. 
That  shall  ensure  thee 

A  Happy  New  Year  ? 

Faith  that  increaseth, 
Walking  in  light ; 

Hope  that  aboundeth, 
Happy  and  bright ; 


A  HAPPY  NEW  YEAR.  389 

Love  that  is  perfect, 

Casting  out  fear ; — 
These  shall  ensure  thee 

A  Happy  New  Year. 

Peace  in  the  Saviour, 

Rest  at  His  feet, 
Smile  of  His  countenance 

Radiant  and  sweet, 
Joy  in  His  presence, 

Christ  ever  near ! — 
This  will  ensure  thee 

A  Happy  New  Year  I 


H  Ibappv?  iRcvv  l!)eai% 

A  HAPPY  New  Year  !     Oh  such  may  it  be ! 
Joyously,  surely,  and  fully  for  thee  ! 
Fear  not  and  faint  not,  but  be  of  good  cheer, 
And  trustfully  enter  thy  happy  New  Year  ! 

Happy,  so  happy  !     Thy  Father  shall  guide, 
Protect  thee,  preserve  thee,  and  always  provide  ! 
Onward  and  upward  along  the  right  way 
Lovingly  leading  thee  day  by  day. 

Happy,  so  happy  !     Thy  Saviour  sliall  be 
Ever  more  precious  and  present  with  thee ! 
Happy,  so  happy  !     His  Spirit  thy  Guest, 
Filling  with  glory  the  place  of  His  rest. 


390  NEW  YEAR  VERSES. 

Happy,  so  happy !     Though  shadows  around 
May  gather  and  darken,  they  flee  at  the  sound 
Of  the  glorious  Voice  that  saith,  'Be  of  good  cheer  1' 
Then  joyously  enter  thy  happy  New  Year ! 


flew  lear  /iDottoes. 

'  From  this  day  will  I  bless  you.' — Hag.  ii.  19. 

'  From  this  day '' 
He  shall  bless  thee ! 
What  shall  then  distress  thee  ? 

'  From  this  day ' 
He  will  never  leave  thee ; 
What  shall  grieve  thee? 
Christ,  thy  mighty  Friendj 
Loveth  to  the  end 
.  *  From  this  day  ! ' 

>  •< 


'  Be  glad  and  rejoice,  for  the  Lord  will  do  great  things.' — JOEL  ii.  2f, 

The  Lord  hath  done  great  things  for  thee  I 

All  through  the  fleeted  days 
Jehovah  hath  dealt  wondrously ; 

Lift  up  thy  heart  and  praise  ! 
For  greater  things  thine  eyes  shall  see. 

Child  of  His  loving  choice  ! 
The  Lord  will  do  great  things  for  thee ; 

Fear  not,  be  glad,  rejoice  1 


NEW  YEAR  MOTTOES.  39^ 


WONDROUSLY 

The  Lord  hath  dealt  with  thee  ! 
Wondrous  mercy  all  the  way, 
Wondrous  patience  every  day, 
Wondrous  pardon,  wondrous  feeling, 
Wondrous  help  and  wondrous  leading 
Through  the  bygone  year. 

Wondrously 
The  Lord  shall  deal  with  thee  ! 

Wondrous  tenderness  and  grace. 
Wondrous  shining  of  His  face, 
Wondrous  faithfulness  and  power. 
Wondrous  love,  shall  twine  each  bower 
Through  the  coming  year  ! 


>»-<- 


Crown  the  year  with  Thy  goodness,  Lord 
And  make  every  hour  a  gem 
In  the  living  diadem. 

That  sparkles  to  Thy  praise. 

Crown  the  year  with  Thy  grace,  O  Lord  ! 
Be  Thy  fresh  anointings  shed 
On  Thy  waiting  servant's  head, 
Who  treads  Thy  royal  ways. 

Crown  the  year  with  Thy  glory.  Lord  I 
Let  the  brightness  and  the  glow 
Of  its  heavenly  overflow 
Crown  Thy  beloved's  days  ! 


392  NEW  YEAR   VERSES. 

Strong  and  loving  is  thy  Friend, ! 

Trust  Him  for  the  untried  year  ! 
He  shall  lead  thee  to  the  end, 

Ever  gracious,  ever  near. 
As  the  everlasting  hills 

Thou  shalt  find  His  faithfulness ; 
As  the  crystal  mountain-rills. 

>-•-< 


'And  on  the  east  side  toward  the  rising  of  the  sun  shall  they  of  llie 
standard  of  the  camp  of  Judah  pitch  throughout  their  armies:  and 
Nahshon  the  son  of  Amminadab  shall  be  captain  of  the  childien  of 
[udah.' — Num.  ii.  3. 

Toward  the  rising  of  the  sun 

Now  thy  standard  raise  ! 
Let  thy  New  Year's  halt  be  one 

In  the  Camp  of  Praise. 
Then  the  wilderness  shall  be 
Fruitful,  fair,  and  glad  for  thee. 


->-♦-<- 


Another  year  of  patient  toil, 

A  few  sheaves  won  from  rocky  soil, 

May  seem  not  much  to  thee ; 
But  all  thy  work  is  with  the  Lord, 
And  thine  exceeding  great  reward 

Thy  God  Himself  shall  be. 


>•< 


Praising  together  for  all  the  way, 

Now  let  us  welcome  our  New  Year's  Day, 

Rejoicing  together  in  faith  and  love, 
Hoping  together  for  rest  above. 


NEW  YEAR  MOTTOES.  393 


Eternity  with  Jesus 

Is  long  enough  for  rest ; 
Thank  God  that  we  are  spared  to  work 

For  Him  whom  we  love  best ! 


>•< 


•The  Lord  bless  thee,  and  keep  thee  :  The  Lord  make  His  face  shine 
upon  thee,  and  be  gracious  unto  thee  :  The  Lord  lift  up  His  countenance 
upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace.'— Num.  vi.  24-26. 

The  threefold  blessing  Israel  heard 

Three  thousand  years  ago, 
God  grant  it  may  on  thee  to-day 

In  power  and  fulness  flow ; 
That  Light  and  Peace  in  grand  increase 

All  through  the  year  may  glow. 


>>  < 


Lord  Jesus,  keep  our  dear  one 

All  through  the  year; 
By  day  and  night  Thy  presence  bright 

Be  ever  near ; 
And  Thy  sweet  word  be  always  heard 

To  guide  and  cheer. 


>>< 


*  I  will  sing  of  mercy  and  judgment,'  •  Ps,  ci.  i. 

One  year  less 
Of  wisely-ordered  loss, 
Of  sorrow  and  of  weariness, 
Conflict  and  cross. 


394  ^EW  YEAR   VERSES. 

One  year  more 
Of  mercies  ever  new, 
Of  love  in  never-failing  store, 
Faithful  and  true. 


->^-^ 


'  He  it  is  that  doth  go  before  thee  ;  He  will  be  with  thee,  He  will  not 
fail  thee.' — Deut.  xxxi.  8. 

The  Lord  thy  God  ! 
He  it  is  that  goes  before  thee, 
His  the  banner  waving  o'er  thee, 

Bright  and  broad  ! 
When  the  fiercest  foes  assail  thee, 
He  it  is  that  will  not  fail  thee, 

The  Lord  thy  God  ! 

>-*^ 


•  The  righteous,  and  the  wise,  and  their  works,  are  in  the  hand  of  God. 
-EcCLES.  ix.  I, 

The  future  !  who  may  lift  the  veil 
And  read  its  yet  unwritten  tale  ? 
But  sorrow  and  joy  alike  we  leave 

In  the  Hand  that  doeth  all  things  well, 
And  calmly  from  that  Hand  receive 

All  that  each  coming  year  may  tell. 
We  would  not  ask  of  life  or  death, 
It  shall  be  as  the  Master  saith. 


>»< 


Now  Thy  loving  Spirit 
On  our  lives  outpour ; 

Make  us  know  Thee  better, 
Make  us  love  Thee  more. 


NEW  YEAR  MOTTOES.  395 


Take  us  now,  we  pray  Thee, 
Make  us  all  Thine  own  ; 

Keep  us  Thine  for  ever, 
Keep  us  Thine  alone  ! 
>-«-< 

*  Not  as  the  world  giveth 
Give  I  to  you  ! ' 
Saith  the  Redeemer, 
Faithful  and  True. 
May  He  enrich  thee, 

This  New  Year's  Day, 
With  gifts  from  His  treasure 
That  pass  not  away. 

->♦-< 

This  New  Year  Thou  givest  me, 

Lord,  I  consecrate  to  Thee, 

With  all  its  nights  and  days  : 

Fill  my  hand  with  service  blest, 

Fill  my  heart  with  holy  rest. 

And  fill  my  life  with  praise. 

>-»-< 

A  BRIGHT  New  Year,  and  a  sunny  track 

Along  an  upward  way, 
And  a  song  of  praise  on  looking  back, 

When  the  year  has  passed  away. 
And  golden  sheaves  nor  small  nor  few ! 
This  is  my  New  Year's  wish  for  you  ! 

><-< 

Another  year  for  Jesus ! 

How  can  I  wish  for  you 
A  greater  joy  or  blessing, 
O  fellow-worker  true  ? 


396  NEW  YEAR   VERSES. 


Is  the  work  difficult  ? 

Jesus  directs  thee. 
Is  the  path  dangerous  ? 

Jesus  protects  thee. 
Fear  not,  and  falter  not, — 

Let  the  word  cheer  thee  !— 
All  through  the  coming  year 

He  will  be  with  thee  1 


>»-^ 

Happy,  because  He  loves  thee ! 

Happy,  because  He  lives  ! 
Bright  with  that  deepest  gladness 

Which  only  Jesus  gives. 
Happy,  because  He  guides  thee, 

Because  He  cares  for  thee ; 
Happy,  ever  so  happy. 

Thus  may  thy  New  Year  be  ! 


->-•-<- 


For  the  weariest  day 

May  Christ  be  thy  stay  ! 
For  the  darkest  night 

May  Christ  be  thy  light  I 
For  the  weakest  hour 

May  Christ  be  thy  power ! 
For  each  moment's  fall 

May  Christ  be  thy  All  1 


Easter  Echoes. 


EASTER  ECHOES.  399 


Easter  lEcboes* 

Arise,  for  He  is  risen  to-day, 
And  shine,  for  He  is  glorified  ; 

Put  on  thy  beautiful  array, 

And  keep  perpetual  Easter-tide. 

>♦-< 


The  white  flowers,  freed 
From  sno\vy  sepulchres,  may  speak 

In  angel-tone  to  thee, — 

'  Oh,  fear  not  ye  ! 
The  Saviour  whom  ye  seek 

Is  risen  indeed  ! ' 


>>< 


In  the  likeness  of  His  death 

We  were  planted, 
Therefore,  by  His  Spirit's  breath 

Resurrection-life  is  granted  ; — 
Resurrection  beauty  glowing, 
Resurrection  power  outflowing, 
Resurrection  gladness  cheering, 
Resurrection  glory  nearing. 


400  EASTER  ECHOES. 


'Shall  rise  again !' 
His  word  shall  be 
Enough  for  thee, 
O  mourning  heart,  so  full  of  pain  ! 
Yet  see 
The  promise  sealed. 
By  loveliest  miracles.     Each  wakening  flower 

Of  fell  or  field, 
Is  fair  new  proof  of  resurrection  power. 


->-♦-<- 


Far  on  the  mountain  height 
They  grew ; 
Each  vivid  tint 

A  new 
And  fair  imprint 
Of  the  once  pierced  Feet, 
A  token  sweet 
(Sent  very  tenderly). 
That  Jesus  lives  and  loves  and  cares  for  me. 

>^^ 


Oh,  let  me  know 
The  power  of  Thy  resurrection ! 

Oh,  let  me  show 
Thy  risen  life  in  clear  reflection  ! 
Oh,  let  me  soar 
Where  Thou,  my  Saviour  Christ,  art  gone  before  ! 

In  mind  and  heart 
liCt  me  dwell  always,  only,  where  Thou  art. 


Birthday  Poems. 


2  C 


CECILIA  HAVERGAL.  403 


ACROSTICS. 


Cecilia  HDaveroal. 

C  HRiST  hath  called  thee,  Christ  hath  blest, 

E  verlasting  life  is  thine ; 

C  losely  cleaving,  thou  shalt  rest 

1  n  His  glorious  love  divine. 

L  et  Him  teach  thee  what  He  will, 

I  n  thee  day  by  day  fulfil 

A  11  His  sweet  and  blessed  will. 


H  e  is  come  to  claim  His  throne, 

A  nd  thy  life  is  all  His  own  ; 

V  oices  of  this  passing  earth, 

E  choes  of  its  praise  or  mirth, 

R  each  not,  when  the  heart  hath  heard 

G  olden  music  of  His  word. 

*  A  11  for  Jesus '  henceforth  be  ! 

L  ive  for  Him  who  died  for  thee. 


404  BIRTH  DA  Y  POEMS. 


E  ARLY  chastening,  early  blessing  ! 
D  arkest  cloud  hath  brightest  bow ! 
I    n  the  night  of  pain  distressing, 
T  hine  hath  been  the  joy  to  show 
H  ow  God  is  a  Sun  and  Shield. 

H  eir  thou  art  by  His  good  pleasure, 

A  11  thy  title  Spirit-sealed ! 

V  iew  thy  grand  and  royal  treasure — 

E  very  gift  in  Love's  full  measure, 

R  iches  of  His  grace,  so  great, 

G  lory's  far  exceeding  weight, — 

A  11  in  Christ  for  ever  thine  ! 

L  ight  and  Life  and  Love  Divine ! 

for  B.  p,  S. 

F  RANCiE,  may  thy  childhood  be 

Asa  blossom-laden  tree, 

S    howing  promise  full  and  free. 

W  ILLIE,  be  thy  life  a  song, 

H  oly,  happy,  sweet,  and  long, 

S   welling  through  a  world  of  wrong. 

A  LFRED,  be  a  fragrant  flower, 
H  ailing  either  sun  or  shower, 
S   weetest  in  its  fading  hour. 

A  LICE,  in  thy  baby  measure, 

E  ver  be  thy  parents'  treasure, 

S   howering  golden  love  and  pleasure. 


MIZPAH.  r  405 


MESSAGES  FOR   ABSENT   FRIENDS. 

Only  a  leaf,  yet  it  shall  bear 

A  wealth  of  love,  of  mintage  true  ! 

Only  a  simple  earnest  prayer, 
That  silently  goes  up  for  you ; 

Yet  you  and  I  may  never  know 

What  blessings  from  that  prayer  may  flow. 


'Grace,  mercy,  peace.' 
Triple  blossom,  rainbow-hued. 
Fresh  and  fragrant,  heaven-bedewed, 
Brightening  desert  solitude. 
Springing  from  the  Love  Divine, 
Love  that  ever  shall  entwine 
With  our  own,  with  yours  and  mine. 


Upon  the  same  bright  morning  star 
Our  gaze  may  meet,  though  severed  far  : 
The  Star  of  Bethlehem  to-day 
Shines  brightly  on  our  wintry  way ; 
And,  gazing  on  its  radiance  clear, 
Our  hearts  may  meet,  and  we  are  near  ! 


As  the  sounding  shell  conveys 
The  murmur  of  the  sea, 


4o6  BIR  THDA  Y  POEMS. 


So  let  this  tiny  token  raise 

Some  memory  of  me ; 
For  loving  thought  of  prayer  and  praise 

Fail  not  to  rise  for  thee. 

Though  the  circling  flight  of  time  may  find  us 

Far  apart,  or  severed  more  and  more, 
Yet  the  farewell  always  lies  behind  us, 

And  the  welcome  always  lies  before. 
Meanwhile  God  is  leading,  surely,  slowly, 

Through  the  shadows  with  a  hand  of  love, 
To  the  house  where,  'mid  the  myriads  holy, 

Only  welcomes  wait  us  both  above. 


3Birtb&a^  /IDottoes. 

May  the  tale  the  years  are  telling, 

Always  be 
Like  an  angel-anthem  swelling 
Through  thy  spirit's  quiet  dwelling, 
Till  the  glory  all-excelling 

Dawn  for  thee  1 


Many  a  happy  year  be  thine, 

If  our  Father  will ! 
He  has  traced  the  fair  design, 
He  will  fill  it,  line  by  line. 
Working  patiently,  until 
Thy  completed  life  shall  shine,, 
Glorious  in  the  life  divine. 


BIR  THDA  Y  MO  TTOES.  407 


Many  and  happy  thy  birthdays  be  ! 

In  the  hght  of  heaven  arrayed ; 
With  the  rainbow  arching  every  cloud 

When  the  pathway  lies  in  shade ; 
And  full  and  far  may  the  blessing  flow, 

That  thy  future  life  is  made. 


Love  would  strew  upon  thy  way 

Fairest,  freshest  flowers  to-day ; 
Love  would  daily,  hourly  shed 

Brightest  sunbeams  on  thy  head. 
So  she  prays  :  that  heavenly  grace 

Be  thy  flower-awakening  dew, 
And  the  brightness  of  His  face 

Gild  thy  life  with  sunshine  true. 


'  Upward,  still  upward '  thy  pathway  be, 
Into  the  sunshine  grand  and  free ; 
Leaving  the  mists  and  clouds  below, 
Gaining  the  pure  and  stainless  snow. 
Upward,  still  upward  !     Thy  faithful  Guide 
Always  close  at  His  pilgrim's  side, 
Leading  thee  on  from  height  to  height, 
Nearer  and  nearer  the  stars  of  light. 


Birthday  blessings,  fullest,  sweetest, 

Fall  on  thee  to-day ! 
Earthly  pleasure,  fairest,  fleetest, 

Will  not,  cannot  stay ; 


4o8  BIRTH  DA  V  POEMS. 

But  the  true  and  heavenly  treasure 

Cannot  pass  away : 
May  its  richest,  grandest  measure 

Gild  thy  natal  day ! 


The  Love  of  God  the  Father, 
The  Grace  of  God  the  Son, 

The  joy  of  God  the  Holy  Ghost,— 
A  blessing  three  in  one, 

Be  yours  aboundingly,  I  pray, 

For  this  and  every  coming  day  1 


Leaning,  resting,  trusting,  loving. 

Enter  thy  new  year ! 
For  the  Lord  who  lives  to  love  thee 

Will  be  always  near. 
Shielding,  guiding,  caring,  blessing ! — •■ 

What  hast  thou  to  fear  ? 


We  pray  Thee  for  our  dear  one  I 

May  a  sunny  birthday  prove 
The  portal  of  long  happy  years, 

All  radiant  with  Thy  love. 
And  we  praise  Thee  for  our  dear  oiie  t 

For  all  the  mercies  past. 
And  for  all  the  blessing  that  shall  flow 

While  life  itself  shall  last. 


TO  M.    V.   G.  H.  409 


A  HOLY,  happy  birthday 

And  a  happy,  happy  year ! 
Ah,  we  have  not  deserved  it, 

And  yet  we  need  not  fear. 
For  Jesus  has  deserved  it ! 

And  so,  for  Jesus'  sake, 
This  cup  of  joy  and  blessing 

With  grateful  heart  we  take. 


I  HAVE  no  birthday  gifts  to  bring, 
But  I  will  crave  a  Royal  dower, 
The  sevenfold  largesse  of  the  King. 

His  Peace  be  thine,  His  Love  unknown ; 

His  own  deep  Joy,  His  Strength  and  Power, 
His  Grace  abounding,  be  thine  own  1 

His  Rest  be  thine,  sweet  rest  to-day, 
Rest  while  the  swift  years  pass  away, 
And  then  His  Glory  thine  for  aye ! 


Uo  /IC).  1^.  G.  t\ 

ON   HER   BIRTHDAY. 

The  blessing  of  the  trusting  one, 
Who  knows  her  faithful  Friend  ; 

The  blessing  of  the  waiting  one, 
Who  trusts  Him  to  the  end ; 

The  blessing  of  the  watching  one. 
Whose  eyes  are  on  the  Lord ; 


4 1  o  BIR  THDA  Y  POEMS. 

The  blessing  of  the  chastened  one, 
That  marvellous  reward  ! — 

These  sweetest  birthday  blessings  be 
Abundantly  bestowed  on  thee  1 

Blessing  and  blest 
May  thy  new  year  be, 

Brightest  and  best 
Of  the  years  to  thee, 

Awaiting  the  rest 
Of  eternity ! 


/!!>♦  X.  C.'s  JSlitbbai^  Crown. 

Only  just  a  line  to  say, 
Miriam,  on  this  summer  day, 
What  my  spirit's  love  would  breathe, 
While  thy  birthday  crown  I  wreathe. 

Crown  !     How  many  a  mingled  thought 
By  that  little  word  is  brought  1 
Yet  m.ay  each  enlinked  be 
In  a  birthday  wish  for  thee. 

One  who  wears  a  crown  should  reign 
Sovereign  over  some  domain ; 
Held  by  thee,  love's  fairy  sway 
Still  may  every  heart  obey. 

First  we  think  of  royal  gems. 
Coronets  and  diadems ; 
'T  were  an  idle  wish,  I  ween, 
Be  thou  happy  as  a  Queen ! 


"C  JOHN  HENRY  C ON  HIS  BIRTH  DA  Y.       411 


To  another  crown  we  turn, 
While  our  loving  hearts  would  burn, 
Worn  by  Him  w^ho  on  the  tree, 
Miriam,  hath  died  for  thee. 

By  that  thorn-enwoven  crown, 
By  the  life  for  thee  laid  down, 
May  thy  every  fleeting  year 
Bring  thee  to  His  love  more  near ! 

Then  the  crown  of  golden  light, 
Worn  by  those  who  walk  in  white, 
May  that  be  thy  blest  reward 
In  the  presence  of  thy  Lord  ! 


TTo  'iQ)\i\\  Ibenr^  C —  on  bis  Ubfrt> 
:J6irtb^ay♦ 

Blessings  on  thee,  darling  boy, 
Peace  and  love  and  gentle  joy ! 
May  the  coronal  they  twine 
Through  the  dream  of  life  be  thine  I 

Little  hast  thou  known  of  life, 
Of  its  sorrow,  of  its  strife, 
Thine  not  yet  dark  Future's  blast, 
Thine  not  yet  a  shadowy  Past. 

While  we  reck  of  coming  years, 
Strangely  mingling  hopes  and  fears, 


4 1 2  BIR  THDA  Y  POEMS. 

What  are  sober  thoughts  to  thee, 
In  the  tide  of  birthday  glee  ! 

Thou  art  beautiful  and  bright, 
Daily  wakening  new  delight, 
Would  that  we  the  prize  could  hold, 
Always  keep  thee  three  years  old ! 

No,  not  always ;  thou  may'st  be 
Something  brighter  yet  to  see, 
Noble-hearted,  lofty-souled. 
When  more  years  have  o'er  thee  rolled. 

Love  is  watching  round  thee  now, 
Tracing  sunbeams  on  thy  brow  ; 
Never  be  her  mission  done 
To  thy  father's  only  son ! 

Yet  a  higher,  deeper  love 
Watcheth  o'er  thee  from  above 
Then  thy  fount  of  motive  be 
Love  to  Him  who  loveth  thee. 

Darling,  may  thy  years  below. 
Like  a  strain  of  music  flow, 
Ever  sweeter,  purer,  higher, 
Till  it  swell  the  angel  choir. 

Be  thy  life  a  star  of  light, 
Glistening  through  earth's  stormy  night, 
Shining  then  with  glorious  ray 
Through  the  One  Eternal  Day  ! 


FOR  ELIZABETH  CLAY'S  BIRTHDAY.  413 


^ot  lEltsabetb  Clan's  :Kirtbbas» 

•  My  presence  shall  go  with  thee, 
And  I  will  give  thee  rest ! ' 
A  promise  sweetly  tender, 
Soothing  the  anxious  breast. 

He  knows  the  lonely  spirit. 

And  all  its  hidden  woe ; 
He  knows  the  weary  yearnings 

No  earthly  friend  can  know. 

His  presence  shall  go  with  thee, 

And  His  upholding  hand 
Thy  orphaned  footsteps  guiding 

All  through  the  stranger's  land 

Encompassed  by  that  Presence 

Thou  wilt  not  be  alone, 
And  thou  may'st  safely  rest  thee 

'Neath  the  shadow  of  His  throne. 

When  spring-time's  emerald  glory 

Bids  hill  and  valley  smile, 
And  thou  once  more  regainest 

The  white  cliffs  of  our  isle. 

Shall  I  not  hear  thee  whisper, 

In  accents  calmly  blest — 
'  His  presence  hath  been  with  me, 

And  He  hath  given  me  rest '  ? 


4 1 4  BIR  THDA  Y  POEMS. 


*  Coming  ot  Hae/ 

(J.  H.  S.) 

What  do  we   seek  for  hira  to-day,   who,  through  such 

golden  gates 
Of  mirth  and  gladness,  enters  now  where  life  before  him 

waits  ? 
'Mid  light  and  flowers  the  feast  is  spread,  and  young  and 

old  rejoice. 
And  motto  texts  speak  out  for  all,  with  earnest,  loving 

voice. 

The  threefold  blessing  Israel  heard  three  thousand  years 

ago, 
Oh  !  grant  it  may  on  him  to-day  in  power  and  fulness 

flow; 
For,  faithful  and  unchangeable,  each  word  of  God  is  sure. 
Though  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away,  His  promises 

endure. 

The  Angel  of  the  Covenant,  redeeming  from  all  ill 

Both  son  and  father,  bless  the  lad,  and  every  prayer  fulfil ; 

Nor  only  bless,  but  make  him,  too,  a  blessing.  Lord,  from 

Thee: 
With  length  of  days,  oh,  satisfy ;  let  him  Thy  glory  see. 

Through  all  the  journey  of  his  life,  Thy  presence  with 

him  go  \ 
Rest  in  Thee  here,  and  with  Thee  there,  do  Thou,  O 

Lord,  bestow. 


TO  THE  REV.   C.  B.  SNEPP.  415 


Oh,  keep  him  faithful  unto  death,  then  grant  to  him,  we 

pray, 
The  crown  of  glory  and  of  life,  that  fadeth  not  away. 

So  shall  the  father's  soul  be  glad  for  him  he  holds  so  dear, 
A  son  whose  heart  is  truly  wise  in  God's  most  holy  fear  ; 
And  hallowed  be  our  festal  joy  with  gratitude  and  praise  ; 
Forget  not  all   His  benefits,  whose  kindness  crowns  our 
days. 

Then  glory  in  the  highest  be  to  Him,  our  Strength  and 

Song; 
May  every  heart  uplift  its  part,  in  blessings  deep  and  long. 
Through  Him  who  died  that  we  might  live,  our  thanks  to 

God  ascend, 
The  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords,  our  Saviour  and  our 

Friend. 


ICo  tbe  IRev.  d,  :fB.  Snepp. 

I  HAVE  no  hymn,  my  brother, 
Upon  your  desk  to  lay, 

No  song  of  holy  gladness 
To  bring  to  you  to-day ; 


To  '  Songs  of  Grace  and  Glory 
No  verses  sweet  and  new  ! 

I  write  not  for  ten  thousand, 
I  only  write  for  you. 

For  oh,  my  heart  is  singing 
A  song  of  quiet  praise 


4i6  BIR  THDA  Y  POEMS. 

To  Him  who  has  preserved  you, 
Upholding  all  your  ways. 

To  Him  who  knows  our  sorrows, 
Who  knew  the  orphan's  heart. 

And  sent  a  friend  to  cheer  it, 
And  act  a  brother's  part. 

So  I  come  before  my  Father, 
My  hands  in  faith  uplift, 

To  fill  your  cup  with  gladness 
And  every  perfect  gift. 

And  may  His  loving-kindness 
Crown  all  with  grace  for  grace, 

Till  in  the  coming  glory 
You  stand  before  His  face ! 

And  see  with  light  from  heaven, 
Clear-shining  on  thy  ways, 

Each  pilgrimage  petition 
Transmuted  into  praise. 


TO  THE  SAME. 

Lord,  refresh  Thy  weary  servant, 
Send  him  sweet  and  quiet  rest ; 

Thou  hast  made  him  oft  a  blessing. 
Let  him  now  be  doubly  blest. 


SA  TURD  A  V  NIGHT.  4 » 7 

Let  him  feel  Thy  holy  presence 

Richly  dwelling  in  his  soul, 
Every  care  and  every  burden 

Bid  him  on  Jehovah  roll. 

Lord,  as  he  for  Thee  hath  spoken, 
Now  to  him,  oh  do  Thou  speak  ! 

With  Thy  still  small  voice  of  comfort 
Crown  the  mercies  of  the  week. 

May  He  wake  with  strength  renewed, 

Yet  again  to  work  for  Thee ; 
Full  of  Sabbath  joy  and  blessing 

Let  his  spirit  always  be  1 


a  D 


Sonnets. 


LIFE  MOSAIC.  421 


Then  Time  will  seem  as  but  a  pebble  cast 

Into  the  ocean  of  Eternity, 
Breaking  for  one  short  moment  that  pure  light, 
Which  dwells  upon  its  calm  expanse  of  joy, 
As  into  shiv'ring  radiance,  and  shade-like  circles. 
Soon  melting  back  into  primeval  brightness, 
(Like  that  which  was,  when  all  created  essence 
Took  but  the  forms  of  blended  light  and  music, 

In  glory  of  an  infinite  variety), 
Through  the  translucent  crystal  of  that  sea, 
It  swiftly  sinks  to  rest,  within  the  depths 
Of  that  great  heart,  like  an  aye-glistening 
And  treasured  memory  of  things  gone  by. 
Bearing,  deep  graven  on  its  pale,  clear  front, 
One  word — Redemption  1 


Xtfe  /nbosafc. 

Master,  to  do  great  work  for  Thee,  my  hand 
Is  far  too  weak  !     Thou  givcst  what  may  suit- 
Some  little  chips  to  cut  with  care  minute. 

Or  tint,  or  grave,  or  polish.     Others  stand 


422  SONNETS. 


Before  their  quarried  marble  fair  and  grand, 
And  make  a  life  work  of  the  great  design 
Which  Thou  hast  traced ;  or,  many-skilled,  combine 

To  build  vast  temples,  gloriously  planned. 

Yet  take  the  tiny  stones  which  I  have  wrought, 
Just  one  by  one,  as  they  were  given  by  Thee, 

Not  knowing  what  came  next  in  Thy  wise  thought. 

Set  each  stone  by  Thy  master-hand  of  grace, 
Form  the  mosaic  as  Thou  wilt  for  me. 

And  in  Thy  temple-pavement  give  it  place. 


Come  down,  and  show  the  dwellers  far  below 
What  God  is  painting  on  each  mountain  place  1 
Show  His  fair  colours,  and  His  perfect  grace. 
Dowering  each  blossom  born  of  sun  and  snow : 
His  tints,  not  thine  !     Thou  art  God's  copyist, 
O  gifted  Helga  !     His  thy  golden  height. 
Thy  purple  depth,  thy  rosy  sunset  light, 
Thy  blue  snow-shadows,  and  thy  weird  white  mist 
Reveal  His  works  to  many  a  distant  land  ! 

Paint  for  His  praise,  oh  paint  for  love  of  Him  ! 
He  is  thy  Master,  let  Him  hold  thy  hand, 

So  thy  pure  heart  no  cloud  of  self  shall  dim. 
At  His  dear  feet  lay  down  thy  laurel-store. 
Which  crimson  proof  of  thy  redemption  bore. 


OUR  RED-LETTER  DA  YS.  423 


/iDemortal  IFlames. 

The  High  Priest  stands  before  the  Mercy  Seat, 
And  on  his  breast  bright  mingHng  jewel-flames 
Reflect  Shechinah  Hght ;  twelve  patriarch  names 

Flash  where  the  emerald  and  sapphire  meet 

Sardius  and  diamond.     With  softer  beam, 
From  mystic  onyx  on  his  shoulders  placed, 
Deep  graven,  never  altered  or  erased. 

The  same  great  names,  in  birthday  order,  gleam. 

May  each  name  written  here  be  thus  engraved, 
Set  in  the  place  of  power,  the  place  of  love. 
And  borne  in  sweet  memorial  above. 

By  Him  who  loved  and  chose,  redeemed  and  saved 
Be  each  dear  name,  the  greatest  and  the  least, 
Always  upon  the  heart  of  our  High  Priest. 


®ur  1ReD==3Letter  2)ass» 

My  Alpine  staff  recalls  each  shining  height, 
Each  pass  of  grandeur  with  rejoicing  gained, 
Carved  with  a  lengthening  record,  self-explained, 

Of  mountain-memories  sublime  and  bright. 

No  valley-life  but  hath  some  mountain  days, 
Bright  summits  in  the  retrospective  view. 
And  toil-won  passes  to  glad  prospects  new. 

Fair  sunht  memories  of  joy  and  praise. 

Grave  on  thy  heart  each  past  '  red-letter  day  ! ' 

Forget  not  all  the  sunshine  of  the  way 


424  SONNETS. 


By  which  the  Lord  hath  led  thee  :  answered  prayers 
And  joys  unasked;  strange  blessings,  lifted  cares, 
Grand  promise-echoes  !     Thus  thy  life  shall  be 
One  record  of  His  love  and  faithfulness  to  thee. 


Xufte  fj.  X3» 

The  Lord  commanded,  '  Give  ye  them  to  eat,* — 
Five  loaves  and  two  small  fishes  all  their  store 
For  hungering  crowds.     He  knew  they  had  no  more, 

And  He  had  called  them  to  that  wild  retreat. 

They  gave  it  as  He  gave  them,  piece  by  piece, 

Where  on  the  green  grass  grouped  the  great  and  small 
Till  all  were  filled.     So  not  theirs  at  all 

But  His,  the  glory  of  that  grand  increase. 

Master,  I  have  not  strength  to  serve  Thee  much, 
The  '  half-day's  work  '  is  all  that  I  can  do, 

But  let  Thy  mighty,  multiplying  touch 
Even  to  me  the  mjracle  renew. 

Let  five  words  feed  five  thousand,  and  Thy  power 

Expand  to  life-results  one  feeble  hour. 


In  Memoriam. 


MY  MOTHER'S  REQUEST.  427 


^^  /iDotber'5  'IReciuest 

(SUNDAY  MORNING,    8  O'CLOCK.) 

The  Sabbath  morn  dawns  o'er  the  mountain  brow. 
And  lights  the  earth  with  glory  soft  and  mild  : 
Oh,  think'st  thou,  dearest  mother,  even  now 
Of  me,  thy  youngest  and  most  wayward  child  ? 

For  this,  my  mother,  is  the  sacred  hour 
When  thou  didst  bid  me  ever  think  of  thee : 
Oh,  surely  nothing  earthly  could  have  power 
To  break  the  spell  which  hallows  it  to  me. 

Thy  loving  look,  thy  feeble  voice,  I  seem, 
Though  years  have  passed,  to  see  and  hear  again  j 
Not  as  the  shadowy  fancies  of  a  dream, 
But  as  distinct,  as  vivid  now  as  then. 

'  When  in  my  Saviour's  glorious  home  I  dwell, 
Forget  not  this  my  last  request  to  thee  : 
When  soundeth  forth  the  early  Sabbath  bell, 
Where'er  thou  art,  my  Fanny,  think  of  me ! ' 

Oh,  why  was  this  thy  dying  wish — thy  last  ? 
Thou  would'st  not  think  that  I  should  e'er  forget 
My  mother's  love,  that  passing  years  might  cast 
A  cloudy  veil,  where  that  bright  star  did  set ; 


428  IN  MEMORIAM. 


Thou  could'st  not  wish  to  wake  the  grief  anew 
Which  Time's  dark  poppies  might  have  lulled  awhile ; 
'T  was  not  that  tear-drops  might  again  bedew 
My  cheek  for  aye,  and  chase  again  each  smile. 

Oh  no  !  were  death  an  endless,  joyless  sleep, 
Thou  hadst  not  bid  me  on  thy  memory  dwell ; 
This  hour  for  thee  thou  hadst  not  bid  me  keep, 
To  grieve  thy  child,  thou  lovedst  her  too  well. 

But  well  thou  knew'st  I  could  not  think  of  thee 
Without  remembering  Him  with  whom  thou  art, 
To  whom  thou  oft  didst  pray  so  fervently 
That  I  might  give  my  wandering,  wilful  heart 

I  must  remember  too  the  joyful  faith 
Which  filled  thy  soul  e'en  in  thy  dying  hour, 
And  led  thee  calmly  through  the  vale  of  death  j 
There  I  must  ever  see  its  wondrous  power. 

I  could  not  but  fulfil  thy  last  desire, 
The  last  sweet  echo  of  thy  loving  voice, 
Calling  my  mind  each  Sabbath  morning  higher, 
Where  thou  in  endless  Sabbath  dost  rejoice. 

So  if  my  heart  should  tempt  me  to  forget 
To  watch  and  pray,  and  Jesu's  love  to  seek, 
This  quiet  hour  might  break  for  me  the  net. 
And  free  my  feet  afresh  each  opening  week. 

Oft  when  I  wavered,  sHpped,  and  nearly  fell. 
Yet  stunned  and  giddy  heeded  not  my  fate, 
The  fatal  charm  was  broken  by  that  bell. 
Thy  memory  oped  my  eyes  ere  yet  too  late. 


MAY  DIRGE.  429 


And  oft  when  sad  and  hopeless  seemed  my  way, 
Its  sweet  sound  told  me  of  the  victory 
Which  thy  bright  faith  hath  gained,  and  then  a  ray 
Of  hope  hath  whispered,  '  Such  may  be  for  thee.' 

Oh,  't  was  a  mother's  love  which  did  devise 
This  gentle  way  of  helping  her  child's  soul ; 
Not  on  earth  only,  but  from  yon  bright  skies 
To  aid  her  steps  towards  the  heavenly  goal. 

Oh,  Thou  who  dwellest  with  Thy  ransomed,  where 
The  one  long  Sabbath  ne'er  may  darkly  close, 
By  Thy  rich  mercy  grant  this  earliest  prayer. 
Which  oft  for  me  from  her  dear  lips  arose. 

Bring  me,  oh,  bring  me  to  Thy  house  of  light, 
That  there  with  my  loved  mother  I  may  dwell, 
And  e'er  rejoicing  in  Thy  presence  bright, 
May  praise  Thy  love,  who  doest  all  things  we!L 


I  WELCOME  not  thy  coming  now, 
For  sorrow  darkeneth  my  brow. 
And  but  for  glad  hearts  wakest  thou, 
Fair  May. 

When,  years  ago,  thou  dawnedst  bright. 
With  thy  first  hours  blest  my  sight 
The  fairest  child  that  e'er  saw  light 
Of  May. 


430  IN  MEMORIAM. 


She  grew  a  gladder,  blither  thing 
Than  butterfly  on  purple  wing, 
Or  happy  birds  which  sweetly  sing 
In  May. 

'T  was  she  who  brought  my  sunniest  hours. 
For  she  was  lovelier  than  the  flowers 
Which  bloom  amid  thy  emerald  bowers, 
Bright  May. 

How  oft,  when  grief  had  touched  my  heart, 
She  chased  it  with  her  fairy  art ; 
Thy  charms  to  her  thou  didst  impart, 
Glad  May.  ' 

But  oh  !  there  is  a  treacherous  smile, 
Which  Spring  assumeth  to  beguile, 
And  many  rue  thy  sunny  wile, 
False  May. 

A  flush  in  her  loved  cheek  arose, 
More  rich  than  ruby  tint  that  glows 
In  western  cloud  when  evenings  close 
In  May. 

Her  dark  eye  brightly,  strangely  gleamed, 
More  beautiful  than  e'er  she  seemed ; 
Oh,  who  of  evil  nigh  had  dreamed 
That  May  ? 

But  when  the  snowdrop  came  again, 
I  saw  that  tenderest  care  was  vain  ; 
My  Ella  passed  from  all  her  pain 
In  May. 


MAY  DIRGE.  431 


That  precious  life  no  skill  could  save ; 
I  laid  her  in  a  quiet  grave, 
Where  now  the  snowy  blossoms  wave 
Of  May. 

Once  more  they  shed  their  sweet  perfume, 
As  incense  o'er  my  darling's  tomb, 
Though  soon  departs  their  fragile  bloom 
With  May. 


Thou  hast  my  child  !    Thy  sparkling  dew 
Is  glittering  on  her  grave  anew ; 
Soon  thou  wilt  deck  her  father's  too, 
O  May! 


I  cannot  live  without  her  here. 
For  earth  is  desolate  and  drear, 
E'en  when  thy  morning  shineth  clear, 
Blithe  May. 

To  cheer  me  thou  canst  weave  no  spell, 
Deep  sadness  in  my  heart  doth  dwell, 
And  I  must  bid  my  last  farewell 
To  May. 

Speed,  speed  thy  slow  return,  for  when 
Once  more  thou  comest,  then,  oh  then, 
I  shall  be  with  my  child  again, 
Sweet  May ! 


432  IN  MEMORIAM. 


'^Q  jf.  /lib.  6,  Q\\  ber  Brotber's  Dcatb. 

Stay  not  the  current  of  thy  tears,  for  they 

Must  flow,  and  'tis  a  sad  relief  to  weep 

For  one  who,  having  orightened  long  the  way, 

Now  lies  in  death's  long  sleep. 

A  brother's  love !     I  know  it  is  a  treasure 
Which  ma/  by  nothing  earthly  be  replaced  ; 
I  know  that  this  filled  up  the  bounteous  measure 
Of  joy  which  thou  didst  taste. 

I  know  that  sadness  fills  thy  youthful  heart 
E'en  to  o'erflowing ;  and  it  well  may  seem 
That  nought  to  thee  remaineth  but  the  smart ; 
Of  happiness  no  gleam. 

And  Jesus  knows  it.     Oh,  He  did  not  call 
Thy  brother  from  his  loving  sister's  side 
Without  remembering  thee,  thy  sorrows  all ; 

He  knows  the  heart  He  tried. 

But  He  would  have  thee  turn  thy  weeping  eye 
To  gaze  on  Him,  who  suffered  all  for  thee. 
That  the  effulgence  every  tear  may  dry 

Which  beams  from  Calvary. 

All  earthly  love  is  as  a  thread  of  gold, 

Most  fair,  but  what  the  touch  of  death  may  sever : 

But  His  a  cable  sure,  of  strength  untold  : 

Oh  !  His  love  lasteth  ever. 


TO  F.  M.   G.  ON  HER  BROTHER'S  DEATH.  433 


And  this  sweet  love  He  would  on  thee  bestow, 
The  fulness  of  His  grace  to  thee  make  known, 
A  glimpse  of  heaven  grant  thee  here  below, 

And  thou  shouldst  be  His  own. 

Thou  wilt  not  sigh,  if  this  one  Pearl  thou  gain. 
O'er  earthly  treasures,  costly  though  they  be. 
Short  is  the  night  of  weeping  and  of  pain ; 
Endless  the  joy  for  thee ! 

Thy  brother  striketh  now  his  harp  of  gold, 
And  singeth  joyously  his  first '  new  song ; ' 
The  echo  of  his  melody  hath  rolled 

The  aisles  of  heaven  along. 

He  weareth  raiment  white,  which  angel  hands 
From  the  full  vestry  of  the  Lamb  have  brought ; 
With  palm  and  crown,  before  His  throne  he  stands 
Who  him  by  blood  hath  bought. 

Gladness  unspeakable  his  soul  doth  fill. 

He  hath  forgotten  pain,  and  grief,  and  sorrow ; 

Eternal  bliss  hath  dawned  on  him,  he  will 

See  no  woe-bringing  morrow. 

He  might  have  passed  through  many  a  weary  year 

Of  sickness,  trouble,  or  perplexity. 

And  as  an  autumn  leaf,  all  brown  and  sere, 

Been  shaken  from  the  tree ; 

He  might  have  forfeited  the  heavenly  prize. 

Had  he  lived  longer  on  the  Tempter's  ground  : 

Then  gaze  no  longer  where  his  body  lies 

Beneath  the  new  formed  mound. 

2  £ 


43+  ^^  MEMO RI AM. 


Yes,  look  up  from  the  scene  of  mourning,  where 
Nought  but  a  dreary  blank  thine  eyes  can  see  : 
Thou  hast  a  brother  now  in  heaven,  and  there 
He  waits  to  welcome  thee  ! 


Dying  ?  Evelyn,  darling  ! 

Dying  ?  can  it  be  ? 
Spring  so  joyous  all  around, 
Such  a  spring,  so  early  crowned, 
Heralding  all  summer  glee, 
Life  for  everything  but  thee  ! 
Evelyn,  darling,  dying? 
Yet  it  is  no  phantom  sound. 
Though  the  word  is  haunting  me ; 

Thou  art  lying 
Now  where  life  and  death  do  meet, 
Thorny  path  and  golden  street. 
I  thought  I  had  no  heart  to  write. 
But  the  pencil  near  me  lay, 
Which  has  traced  me  many  a  day, 
Dipped  in  colours  dark  or  bright, 
Lays  I  guessed  would  meet  the  sight 

Of  at  least  some  loving  eye, 
And  perchance  be  heard  again, 
Winning  echoes  far  and  nigh. 
Touching  chords  of  sympathy 
In  the  weary  souls  of  men. 
And  I  took  it  in  my  hand, 


EVELYN.  435 


For  it  seemed  to  be  relief, 

After  this  long  week  of  grief, 
Just  to  let  the  thought  expand, 
And  the  word  that  haunted  me 
Just  to  write  ;  though  none  shall  see 
What  is  written,  only  He 
Who  is  gently  leading  thee, 

Evelyn,  darling,  without  fears, 
Through  the  vale  of  death, — and  me 

Through  the  vale  of  tears. 


■'o' 


All  so  calm  ; — a  hazy  veil 

Falling  on  the  golden  west ; 
Silence,  like  a  minstrel  pale, 

Preluding  the  Sabbath  rest. 
There  is  night  before  the  dawn 
Rise  for  us  of  Sabbath  morn : 
Is  there  any  night  for  thee 
Ere  thine  eyes  the  glory  see  ? 
Are  the  angels,  bright  and  strong, 

Bearing  thy  free  soul  away, 
Teaching  thee  the  glad  new  song, 

On  the  grand  star-paven  way  ? 
Art  thou  even  now  at  rest. 
Lying  on  the  Saviour's  breast  ? 
Evelyn,  darling,  is  it  so  ? 
Would,  oh,  would  that  I  could  know 
I  can  only  wait  in  sorrow 
For  the  tidings  of  the  morrow. 

Evelyn,  darling,  laid  so  low  ! 
Only  three  short  months  ago 


436  IN"  MEMORIAM. 


Thou  wert  full  of  life  and  glee, 
Round  the  laden  Christmas  tree ; 
Foremost  in  the  carol-singing, 
Fun  and  frolic  gaily  flinging. 
Tallest,  fairest  of  the  troop. 

Opening  rose  on  slender  stem, 
Reigning  'mid  the  bright-eyed  group, 

Queen  without  a  diadem  ; 
In  thy  robe  of  snowy  sheen, 
Decked  with  silken  emerald  green. 
Few  there  are  who  ever  knew 

Merrier  holidays  than  thine. 
Whether  summer  breezes  blew, 

Or  the  winter  stars  did  shine. 
Evelyn,  darling,  can  it  be. 

Was  that  Christmas  tree  the  last? 
How  believe  it,  that  for  thee 

Christmas  holidays  are  past ! 
And  that  summer  leaves  will  wave, 

And  the  Easter  moon  will  shine, 
Over  the  first  household  grave, 
First, — and  thine  ! 

I  am  not  praying, — prayer  is  hushed, 

God's  hand  is  laid  upon  my  heart ; 
The  earthly  hope  for  ever  crushed, 

The  heavenly  answered,  not  in  part, 
But  fully,  perfectly !     I  prayed 

For  life,  and  He  hath  given  the  life 
Which  triumphs  o'er  the  grave's  cold  shade  \ 

For  peace,  and  He  hath  ended  strife 
And  spoken  love.     There  have  been  tears 


EVELYN.  437 


And  earnest  pleadings  through  long  years ; 
But  He  is  faithful  to  His  word, 
I  k7iow  at  last  that  He  has  heard. 
But  not,  oh  not  as  I  had  thought 

In  ignorant  and  selfish  love. 
The  Master  calls, — she  tarries  not, 

For  He  hath  need  of  her  above. 
The  lambs  He  gathers  with  His  arm 
No  grief,  no  sin,  no  death  can  harm, 
So  safely  folded  on  His  breast, 
For  ever  and  for  ever  blest 
Could  God  Himself  give  more  ?     His  will 
Is  best,  though  we  are  weeping  still. 

Vet  the  old  cry  comes  again, 

Evelyn,  darling,  dying ! 
Is  it  true,  or  is  it  dreaming  ? 
Is  it  only  ghastly  seeming 
Of  a  sorrow  far  away, 
Not  to  fall  for  many  a  day  ? 

If  I  saw  thee  lying, 
I  might  realize  it  so ! 
Last  I  saw  thee  in  the  glow 
Of  thy  brightest  health  and  bloom  ; 
Was  it  only  for  the  tomb  ? 
Then  the  sorrow  grows  with  this — 

Not  a  word  of  fond  good-bye, 
Not  one  tender  parting  kiss. 

Not  one  glance  of  loving  eye  1 
Well  I  know  it  could  not  be  ! 
God's  appointed  way  for  me 
Was  assuredly — '  Be  still, 


438  IN  MEMORIAM. 


Wait  in  silence  for  His  will.' 
Father,  I  have  said  Amen, 
Said  it  often,  now  again ! 
Father,  strengthen  it  and  seal ! 
Let  my  weary  spirit  feel 
I  am  very  near  to  Thee, 
For  Thy  hand  is  laid  on  me, — 
Though  the  shadows  gather  deep, 
Thou  canst  calm  and  aid  and  keep. 

Father,  where  the  shadows  fall 
Deeper  yet,  deepest  of  all, 
Send  Thy  peace,  and  show  Thy  power 
In  affliction's  direst  hour ; 
To  each  mourning  heart  draw  near. 
Soothe  and  bless,  sustain  and  cheer. 
Thou  wilt  hear,  I  know  not  how  ! 
Thou  canst  help,  '  and  only  Thou.' 
This  my  prayer  I  leave  with  Thee. 
Father  !  hear  and  answer  me 
For  the  sake  of  Him  who  knows 
All  our  love  and  all  our  woes. 


Starltobt  tbrouab  tbe  Sbabows* 

•  I. 

Thy  dear  one  is  with  Jesus  now ! 

Seeing  Him  face  to  face, 
Gazing  upon  His  own  beloved  brow, 

Watching  His  smile  of  grace ; 
Hearing  the  Master's  voice  in  all  its  sweetness, 
Knowing  Him  now  in  all  His  own  completeness  \ 


STARLIGHT  THROUGH  THE  SHADOWS.  439 

With  Jesus  now,  with  Him  for  ever ! 

Never  to  leave  Him — grieve  Him  never ! 
Could  God  Himself  give  more  ?     His  will 
Js  best,  though  we  are  weeping  still. 

II. 

He  knows ! 
Yes,  Jesus  knows  !  just  what  you  cannot  tell 

He  understands  so  well ! 
The  silence  of  the  heart  is  heard, 
He  does  not  need  a  single  word, 

He  thinks  of  you ; 
He  watcheth,  and  He  careth  too, 
He  pitieth,  He  loveth  !     All  this  flows 

In  one  sweet  word :  '  He  knows  ! ' 

III. 

There  shall  be  no  more  pain  !     Not  any  more ! 
All  weariness,  all  faint  exhaustion  o'er, 
No  quivering  nerve,  no  aching  unconfessed, 

No  memory  of  misery  to  cast 

One  shadow  from  the  past 
Upon  the  unshadowed  splendour  of  His  rest ! 
Beloved !  God  is  leading  thee  to  this, 
Preparing  thee  for  thy  preparing  bliss. 

IV. 

When  thou  passest  through  the  waters, 

I  will  be  with  thee  ! 
Sure  and  sweet  and  all-sufficient 

Shall  His  Presence  be. 


440  IN  MEMORIAM. 


All  God's  billows  overwhelmed  Him 

In  the  great  Atoning  Day ; 
Now  He  only  leads  thee  through  them, 

With  thee  all  the  way. 


5n  Xo^al  ant)  XovftiQ  IRemembrance  of 
fxIR.t),  tbe  ipirincess  Blfcc^^ 

Two  nations  mourn  I     The  same  great  grief  is  known 
By  human  hearts  on  either  side  the  sea, 

Mourning  with  those  who  yet  must  mourn  alone 
Upon  the  silent  height  where  only  He 

Can  come  and  whisper  comfort,  who  hath  worn 

The  lonely  diadem  of  cruel  thorn. 

Mourning  for  her  whose  royal  love  hath  shown 
Secrets  of  comfort  in  the  darkest  days ; 

Who,  like  her  Master,  stooping  from  a  throne 
The  suffering  or  the  lost  could  heal  or  raise ; 

Leaving,  like  Him,  example  pure  and  bright, 

For  court  or  cottage  home  a  starry  light. 

Two  nations  mourn ;  a  hand  from  each  would  lay 
Fair  flowers  and  simple  verse  upon  her  tomb  to-day. 

1  Written  to  accompany  a  memorial  wreath  of  white  roses  and  palipi 
leaves,  painted  by  the  Baroness  Helga  von  Cramm. 


Under  the  Surface. 

*  Man's  goings  are  of  the  Lord  ;  how  can  a  man  then  understand 
his  own  way  ? ' — Prov.  xx.  2^ 


UNDER  THE   SURFACE. 


Take  it,  O  Father !     This  new  book  be  Thine, 
Filled  only  with  Thy  teachings,  only  filled 
For  Thee,  and  for  the  pilgrims  to  Thy  home. 
I  know  not  what  bright  impulses  of  song 
May  come  upon  my  waiting  soul,  nor  when ; 
Or  whether  years  of  silence  yet  may  fall 
In  still  parenthesis  as  once  before ; 
Or  whether  tighter  tension  must  be  laid 
By  Thy  unerring  Hand,  that  so  the  tone 
May  be  more  true  to  that  immortal  key 
Which  reaches  loneliest  depth  of  human  heart 
With  echoes  from  Thine  own,     I  would  not  shrink 
From  suffering,  if  I  may  but  sing  for  Thee. 
Father,  Thou  knowest  how  this  gift  hath  seemed 
Thine  own  direct  sweet  answer  to  the  prayer 
For  peace  and  patience  in  the  silent  grief 
Thy  Hand,  Thine  own,  has  portioned  out  for  me. 
And  I  have  felt  Thy  call,  not  loud,  but  clear, 
To  praise  Thee  with  my  song,  as,  it  may  be, 
I  had  not  done  had  all  my  heart's  desire 
Been  granted  me. 


Thou  knowest  how  (so  often)  I  have  laid 
An  aching  heart  upon  Thy  heart  of  love, 

44.J 


444  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


And  wept  out  all  my  sorrow,  till  at  last 

Thou  gavest  Thy  beloved  sleep.     And  then 

Came  singing  in  the  morning  some  glad  thought 

That,  wafted  over  land  and  sea,  has  put 

New  songs  in  silent  mouths,  and  come  again 

With  harvest  of  rejoicing  back  to  me. 

Let  not  Thy  blessing  fail !     I  long  for  this, 

I  ask  it  for  the  sake  of  Him  whose  Name 

Is  my  sure  plea.     O  send  it,  gracious  Lord ! 

As  Thou  hast  spared  me  to  begin  to-day 

The  seventh  small  volume  of  these  leaves  of  life, 

So  let  a  sevenfold  blessing  rest  upon 

All  that  shall  fill  these  pages.     Give  me  thoughts, 

But  quicken  them  with  power ;  give  me  words. 

But  wing  them  with  Thy  love ;  give  music  too, 

But  let  it  ring  all  beautiful  and  sweet 

AVith  holiness ;  yea,  give  to  me,  if  such 

Thy  holy  will,  far  better  and  far  more 

Than  heretofore,  but  only  add  this  gift, 

Without  which  all  were  worthless  and  in  vain. 

Thy  Blessing.     So  the  glory  and  the  praise 

Shall  all  be  Thine  for  evermore.     Amen. 


xnn^ec  tbe  Surface* 

I. 

On  the  surface,  foam  and  roar, 

Restless  heave  and  passionate  dash, 

Shingle  rattle  along  the  shore, 

Gathering  boom  and  thundering  crash. 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE.  445 

Under  the  surface,  soft  green  light, 
A  hush  of  peace  and  an  endless  calm, 

Winds  and  waves  from  a  choral  height, 
Falling  sweet  as  a  far-ofif  psalm. 

On  the  surface,  swell  and  swirl, 

Tossing  weed  and  drifting  waif, 
Broken  spars  that  the  mad  waves  whirl, 

Where  wreck-watching  rocks  they  chafe. 

Under  the  surface,  loveliest  forms. 

Feathery  fronds  with  crimson  curl, 
Treasures  too  deep  for  the  raid  of  storms, 

Delicate  coral  and  hidden  pearl. 


II. 


On  the  surface,  lilies  white, 

A  painted  skiff  with  a  singing  crew, 
Sky-rellections  soft  and  bright, 

Tremulous  crimson,  gold  and  blue. 

Under  the  surface,  life  in  death. 

Slimy  tangle  and  oozy  moans, 
Creeping  things  with  watery  breath. 

Blackening  roots  and  whitening  bones. 

On  the  surface,  a  shining  reach, 

A  crystal  couch  for  the  moonbeams'  rest, 
Starry  ripples  along  the  beach. 

Sunset  songs  from  the  breezy  west. 


446  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Under  the  surface,  glooms  and  fears, 
Treacherous  currents  swift  and  strong, 

Deafening  rush  in  the  drowning  ears  : 
Have  ye  rightly  read  my  song  ? 


Autobiography  !     So  you  say, 

So  do  I  not  believe  ! 
For  no  men  or  women  that  live  to-day, 
Be  they  as  good  or  as  bad  as  they  may, 
Ever  would  dare  to  leave 
In  faintest  pencil  or  boldest  ink 
All  they  truly  and  really  think, 
What  they  have  said  and  what  they  have  done, 
What  they  have  lived  and  what  they  have  felt. 

Under  the  stars  or  under  the  sun. 
At  the  touch  of  a  pen  the  dewdrops  melt, 
And  the  jewels  are  lost  in  the  grass, 
Though  you  count  the  blades  as  you  pass. 
At  the  touch  of  a  pen  the  lightning  is  fixed, 
An  innocent  streak  on  a  broken  cloud  ; 
And  the  thunder  that  pealed  so  fierce  and  loud, 
With  musical  echo  is  softly  mixed. 
Autobiography  ?     No ! 
It  never  was  written  yet,  I  trow. 
Grant  that  they  try  ! 
Still  they  must  fail ! 
Words  are  too  pale 
For  the  fervour  and  glow  of  the  lava-flow. 
Can  they  paint  the  flash  of  an  eye  ? 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  447 


How  much  less  the  flash  of  a  heart, 
Or  its  delicate  ripple  and  glitter  and  gleam, 
Swift  and  sparkling,  suddenly  darkling, 
Crimson  and  gold  tints,  exquisite  soul-tints, 
Changing  like  dawn-flush  touching  a  dream  ! 
Where  is  the  art 

That  shall  give  the  play  of  blending  lights 
From  the  porphyry  rock  on  the  pool  below  ? 

Or  the  bird-shadow  traced  on  the  sunlit  heights 
Of  golden  rose  and  snow  ? 

You  say  'tis  a  fact  that  the  books  exist, 
Printed  and  published  in  Mudie's  list. 

Some  in  two  volumes,  and  some  in  one — 
Autobiographies  plenty.     But  look  ! 

I  will  tell  you  what  is  done 

By  the  writers,  confidentially  ! 
They  cut  little  pieces  out  of  their  lives 

And  join  them  together, 
Making  them  up  as  a  readable  book, 

And  call  it  an  autobiography, 
Though  little  enough  of  the  life  survives. 

What  if  we  went  in  the  sweet  May  weather 
To  a  wood  that  I  know  which  hangs  on  a  hill, 
And  reaches  down  to  a  tinkling  brook. 
That  sings  the  flowers  to  sleep  at  night, 
And  calls  them  again  with  the  earliest  light. 
Under  the  delicate  flush  of  green, 

Hardly  shading  the  bank  below. 
Pale  anemones  peep  between 

The  mossy  stumps  where  the  violets  grow ; 


448  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Wide  clouds  of  bluebells  stretch  away, 

And  primrose  constellations  rise, — 
Turn  where  we  may, 

Some  new  loveliness  meets  our  eyes. 
The  first  white  butterflies  flit  around, 
Bees  are  murmuring  close  to  the  ground, 

The  cuckoo's  happy  shout  is  heard. 
Hark  again  ! 

Was  it  echo,  or  was  it  bird  ? 

All  the  air  is  full  of  song, 
A  carolling  chorus  around  and  above  ; 
From  the  wood-pigeon's  call  so  soft  and  long, 
To  merriest  twitter  and  marvellous  trill, 
Every  one  sings  at  his  own  sweet  will, 
True  to  the  key-note  of  joyous  love. 

Well,  it  is  lovely  !  is  it  not  ? 

But  we  must  not  stay  on  the  fairy  spot, 
So  we  gather  a  nosegay  with  care : 
A  primrose  here  and  a  bluebell  there, 

And  something  that  we  have  never  seen, 
Probably  therefore  a  specimen  rare ; 

Stitchwort,  with  stem  of  transparent  green, 
The  white-veined  woodsorrel,  and  a  spray 
Of  tender-leaved  and  budding  May. 

We  carry  home  the  fragrant  load 

In  a  close,  warm  hand,  by  a  dusty  road ; 

The  sun  grows  hotter  every  hour ; 

Already  the  woodsorrel  pines  for  the  shade 
We  watch  it  fade. 

And  throw  away  the  fair  little  flower ; 

We  forgot  that  it  could  not  last  an  hour 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  449 

Away  from  the  cool  moss  where  it  grows. 

Then  the  stitchworts  droop  and  close ; 

There  is  nothing  to  show  but  a  tangle  of  green, 

For  the  white-rayed  stars  will  no  more  be  seen. 

Then  the  anemones,  can  they  survive  ? 

Even  now  they  are  hardly  alive. 

Ha !  where  is  it,  our  unknown  spray  ? 

Dropped  on  the  way  ! 
Perhaps  we  shall  never  find  one  again. 
At  last  we  come  in  with  the  few  that  are  left, 
Of  freshness  and  fragrance  bereft ; 

A  sorry  display. 

Now,  do  we  say, 
*  Here  is  the  wood  where  we  rambled  to-day ; 
See,  we  have  brought  it  to  you ; 
Believe  us,  indeed  it  is  true. 
This  is  the  wood  ! '  do  we  say  ? 


So  much  for  the  bright  and  pleasant  side. 
There  is  another.     We  did  not  bring 
All  that  was  hidden  under  the  wing 
Of  the  radian t-plumaged  Spring. 

We  never  tried 
To  spy,  or  watch,  or  away  to  bear, 
Much  that  was  just  as  truly  there. 

What  have  we  seen  ? 

Hush,  ah,  hush  ! 
Curled  and  withered  fern  between, 
And  dead  leaves  under  the  living  green 
Thick  and  damp.     A  clammy  feather, 
All  that  remains  of  a  singing  thrush 

2  F 


450  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Killed  by  a  weasel  long  ago, 

In  the  hungry  winter  weather. 

Nettles  in  unfriendly  row, 

And  last  year's  brambles,  sharp  and  brown, 

Grimly  guarding  a  hawthorn  crown. 

A  pale  leaf  trying  to  reach  the  light 

By  a  long  weak  stem,  but  smothered  down, 

Dying  in  darkness,  with  none  to  see. 

The  rotting  trunk  of  a  willow  tree. 

Leafless,  ready  to  fall  from  the  bank ; 

A  poisonous  fungus,  cold  and  white. 

And  a  hemlock  growing  strong  and  rank. 

A  tuft  of  fur  and  a  ruddy  stain, 

Where  a  wounded  hare  has  escaped  the  snare, 

Only  perhaps  to  be  caught  again. 

No  specimens  we  bring  of  these, 

Lest  they  should  disturb  our  ease, 

And  spoil  the  story  of  the  May, 

And  make  you  think  our  holiday 

Was  far  less  pleasant  than  we  say. 


Ah  no !     We  write  our  lives  indeed, 
But  in  a  cipher  none  can  read. 
Except  the  author.     He  may  pore 
The  life-accumulating  lore 

For  evermore. 
And  find  the  records  strange  and  true, 
Bring  wisdom  old  and  new. 
But  though  he  break  the  seal, 
No  power  has  he  to  give  the  key, 

No  licence  to  reveal. 


COMPENSATION.  451 


We  wait  the  all-declaring  day, 
When  love  shall  know  as  it  is  known. 
Till  then,  the  secrets  of  our  lives  are  ours  and 
God's  alone. 


Compensation. 

O  THE  compensating  springs  !     O  the  balance-wheels  of 

life. 
Hidden  away  in  the  workings  under  the  seeming  strife  ! 
Slowing  the  fret  and  the  friction,  weighting  the  whirl  and 

the  force. 
Evolving  the  truest  power  from  each  unconscious  source. 

How  shall  we  gauge  the  whole,  who  can  only  guess  a  part? 
How  can  we  read  the  life,  when  we  cannot  spell  the  heart  ? 
How  shall  we  measure  another,  we  who  can  never  know 
From  the  juttings  above  the  surface  the  depth  of  the  vein 
below? 

Even  our  present  way  is  known  to  ourselves  alone, 
Height  and  abyss  and  torrent,  flower  and  thorn  and  stone ; 
But  we  gaze  on  another's  path  as  a  far-off  mountain  scene. 
Scanning  the  outlined  hills,  but  never  the  vales  between. 

How  shall  we  judge  their  present,  we  who  have  never  seen 
That  which  is  past  for  ever,  and  that  which  might  have 

been? 
Measuring  by  ourselves,  unwise  indeed  are  we. 
Measuring  what  we  know  by  what  we  can  hardly  see. 


452  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Ah  !  if  we  knew  it  all,  we  should  surely  understand 
That  the  balance  of  sorrow  and  joy  is  held  with  an  even 

hand, 
That  the  scale  of  success  or  loss  shall  never  overflow, 
And  that  compensation  is  twined  with  the  lot  of  high  and 

low. 

The  easy  path  in  the  lowland  hath  little  of  grand  or  new, 
But  a  toilsome  ascent  leads  on  to  a  wide  and  glorious 

view ; 
Peopled   and  warm   is   the  valley,  lonely  and  chill  the 

height. 
But  the  peak  that  is  nearer  the  storm-cloud  is  nearer  the 

stars  of  light. 

Launch  on  the  foaming  stream  that  bears  you  along  like  a 

dart, — 
There  is  danger  of  rapid  and  rock,  there  is  tension  of 

muscle  and  heart ; 
Glide  on  the  easy  current,  monotonous,  calm,  and  slow. 
You  are  spared  the  quiver  and  strain  in  the  safe  and  quiet 

flow. 

O  the  sweetness  that  dwells  in  a  harp  of  many  strings, 
While  each,  all  vocal  with  love,  in  tuneful  harmony  rings  ! 
But  O,  the  wail  and  the  discord,  when  one  and  another  is 

rent 
Tensionless,  broken,  or  lost,  from  the  cherished  instrument. 

For  rapture  of  love  is  linked  with  the  pain  or  fear  of  loss. 
And  the  hand  that  takes  the  crown  must  ache  with  many 
a  cross ; 


COMPENSATION.  453 


Yet  he  who  hath  never  a  conflict  hath  never  a  victor's 

palm, 
And  only  the  toilers  know  the  sweetness  of  rest  and  calm. 

Only  between  the  storms  can  the  Alpine  traveller  know 
Transcendent  glory  of  clearness,  marvels  of  gleam  and 

glow; 
Had  he  the  brightness  unbroken  of  cloudless   summer 

days, 
This  had  been  dimmed  by  the  dust  and  the  veil  of  a 

brooding  haze. 

Who  would  dare  the  choice,  neither  or  both  to  know, 
The  finest  quiver  of  joy  or  the  agony-thrill  of  woe  ? 
Never  the  exquisite  pain,  then  never  the  exquisite  bliss, 
For  the  heart  that  is  dull  to  that  can  never  be  strung  to  this. 

Great  is  the  peril  or  toil  if  the  glory  or  gain  be  great ; 
Never  an  earthly  gift  without  responsible  weight ; 
Never  a  treasure  without  a  following  shade  of  care ; 
Never  a  power  without  the  lurk  of  a  subtle  snare. 

For  the  swift  is  not  the  safe,  and  the  sweet  is  not  the 

strong ; 
The  smooth  is  not  the  short,  and  the  keen  is  not  the  long ; 
The  much  is  not  the  most,  and  the  wide  is  not  the  deep ; 
And  the  flow  is  never  a  spring,  when  the  ebb  is  only  neap. 

Then  hush !  oh,  hush !  for  the  Father  knows  what  thou 

knowest  not, 
The  need  and  the  thorn  and  the  shadow  linked  with  the 

fairest  lot ; 


454  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Knows  the  wisest  exemption  from  many  an  unseen  snare, 
Knows  what  will  keep  thee  nearest,  knows   what  thou 
could'st  not  bear. 

Hush  !  oh,  hush  !  for  the  Father  portioneth  as  He  will, 
To  all  His  beloved  children,  and  shall  they  not  be  still  ? 
Is  not  His  will  the  wisest,  is  not  His  choice  the  best  ? 
And  in  perfect  acquiescence  is  there  not  perfect  rest  ? 

Hush  !  oh,  hush  !  for  the  Father,  whose  ways  are  true  and 

just, 
Knoweth  and  careth  and  loveth,  and  waits  for  thy  perfect 

trust ; 
The  cup  He  is  slowly  filling  shall  soon  be  full  to  the  brim, 
And  infinite  compensations  for  ever  be  found  in  Him. 

Hush  !  oh,  hush  !  for  the  Father  hath  fulness  of  joy  in  store, 
Treasures  of  power  and  wisdom,  and  pleasures  for  ever- 
more; 
Blessing  and  honour  and  glory,  endless,  infinite  bliss ; — 
Child  of  His  love  and  His  choice,  oh,  canst  thou  not  wait 
for  this? 


tCbe  /IDoonlfabt  Sonata* 

Introduction. 

The  ills  we  see, — 
The  mysteries  of  sorrow  deep  and  long. 
The  dark  enigmas  of  permitted  wrong, — • 

Have  all  one  key  ; 
This  strange,  sad  world  is  but  our  Fathers  school ; 
All  chance  and  change  His  love  shall  grandly  overrule. 


THE  MOONLIGHT  SONATA.  455 

How  sweet  to  know 
The  trials  which  we  cannot  comprehend 
Have  each  their  own  divinely-purposed  end  ! 

He  traineth  so 
For  higher  learning,  ever  onward  reaching 
For  fuller  knowledge  yet,  and  His  own  deeper  teaching. 

He  traineth  thus 
That  we  may  teach  the  lessons  we  are  taught ; 
That  younger  learners  may  be  further  brought, 

Led  on  by  us  : 
Well  may  we  wait,  or  toil,  or  suffer  long. 
For  His  dear  service  so  to  be  made  fit  and  strong. 

He  traineth  so 
That  we  may  shine  for  Him  in  this  dark  world. 
And  bear  His  standard  dauntlessly  unfurled : 

That  we  may  show 
His  praise,  by  lives  that  mirror  back  His  love, — 
His  witnesses  on  earth,  as  He  is  ours  above. 

Nor  only  here 
The  rich  result  of  all  our  God  doth  teach 
His  scholars,  slow  at  best,  until  we  reach 

A  nobler  sphere  : 
Then,  not  till  then,  our  training  is  complete, 
And  the  true  life  begins  for  which  He  made  us  meet. 

Are  children  trained 
Only  that  they  may  reach  some  higher  class? 
Only  for  some  few  school-room  years  that  pass 

Till  growth  is  gained  ? 
Is  it  not  rather  for  the  years  beyond 
To  which  the  father  looks  with  hopes  so  fair  and  fond  ? 


4S6  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Bold  thought,  flash  on 
Into  the  far  depths  of  Eternity ; 
When  Time  shall  be  a  faint  star-memory, 

So  long,  long  gone  ! 
Only  not  lost  to  our  immortal  sight. 
Because  it  ever  bears  Redemption's  quenchless  light. 

Flash  on,  and  stand 
Among  thy  bright  companions, — spirits  blest, 
Inhabiting  through  ages  of  glad  rest 

The  Shining  Land ! 
Each  singing  bliss  into  each  other's  hearts, — 
Outpouring  mighty  joy  that  God's  full  hand  imparts. 

If  sweet  below 
To  minister  to  those  whom  God  doth  love, 
What  will  it  be  to  minister  above  ! 

His  praise  to  show 
In  some  new  strain  amid  the  ransomed  choir. 
To  touch  their  joy  and  love  with  note  of  living  fire ; 

With  perfect  praise, 
With  interchange  of  rapturous  revelation 
From  Christ  Himself,  the  burning  adoration 

Yet  higher  to  raise, 
For  ever  and  for  ever  so  to  bring 
More  glory  and  still  more  to  Him,  our  gracious  King. 

Look  on  to  this 
Through  all  perplexities  of  grief  and  strife, — 
To  this,  thy  true  maturity  of  life, 

Thy  coming  bliss ; 
That  such  high  gifts  thy  future  dower  may  be, 
And  for  such  service  high  thy  God  prepare th  thee. 


THE  MOONLIGHT  SONATA.  457 

What  though  to-d?^y 
Thou  canst  not  trace  at  all  the  hidden  reason 
For  His  strange  dealings  through  the  trial-season, — 

Trust  and  obey  : 
And,  like  the  child  whose  story  follows  here, 
In  after  life  and  light  all  shall  be  plain  and  clear. 


Alice's  Story. 

PART   I. 

The  firelight  softly  glanced  upon 

Dark  braids  and  sunny  curls. 
Where,  in  a  many-windowed  room, 
Yet  dim  with  late  November  gloom, 
Were  busy  groups  of  girls. 

Some  sat  apart  to  learn  alone ; 

Some  studied  side  by  side ; 
Some  gathered  round  a  master's  chair 
In  reverent  silence ;  others  there 

For  readiest  answer  tried. 

For  one  young  name  a  summons  came, 

And  Alice  quickly  rose  : 
The  rapid  pen  aside  is  laid ; 
The  call  once  heard  must  be  obeyed 

At  once, — as  well  she  knows. 

Yet  with  no  joyous  step  or  smile 
She  hastens  now  away, 


458  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

A  teacher's  earnest  look  to  meet, 
Whose  hand  is  filled  with  music  sweet, 
As  hers  shall  be  one  day. 

Beside  her  at  the  instrument 

A  place  her  teacher  takes, 
With  patient  eye,  yet  keenest  ear  ; 
And  Alice  knows  that  he  will  hear 

The  slightest  fault  she  makes. 

Oh,  such  a  music-task  as  this 

Was  never  hers  before  ! 
So  long  and  hard,  so  strange  and  stern, — 
A  piece  she  thinks  she  cannot  learn, 

Though  practised  o'er  and  o'er. 

It  is  not  beautiful  to  her, — 

She  cannot  grasp  the  whole : 
The  Master's  thought  was  great  and  deep, — 
A  mighty  storm,  to  seize  and  sweep 

The  wind-harp  of  the  soul. 

She  only  plays  it  note  by  note. 

With  undeveloped  heart ; 
She  does  not  glimpse  the  splendour  through 
Each  chord,  so  difficult  and  new. 

Of  veiled  and  varied  art. 

Unwonted  beat  and  weird  repeat 

She  cannot  understand ; 
She  stumbles  on  with  clouded  brow, — 
Her  cheek  is  flushed,  and  aching  now 

The  weary  little  hand. 


THE  MOONLIGHT  SONATA.  459 


She  looked  up  in  her  teacher's  face  j 
Tears  were  not  far  away  : 

*  Must  I  go  on  till  it  is  done  ? 
Oh,  let  me  change  it,  sir,  for  one 

That  I  can  better  play. 

'  I  cannot  make  it  beautiful, — 

It  has  no  tune  to  sing ; 
And  when  I  am  at  home,  I  fear 
My  friends  will  never  care  to  hear 

This  long  and  dreary  thing.' 

He  said,  '  If  you  might  freely  choose. 
My  child,  what  would  you  learn  ? ' 
'  Oh,  I  would  have  the  "  Shower  of  Pearls," 
Or  "  Soldiers'  March,"  like  other  girls. 
And  quick  approval  earn ; 

'  Or  sweet  Italian  melodies, 

With  brilliant  run  and  shake  : 
If  you  would  only  give  me  such, 
I  think  that  I  could  please  you  much, — 

Such  progress  I  should  make.' 

'  Learn  this,  and  it  will  please  me  more,' 
Said  he,  with  kindest  voice  : 

*  And  though  't  is  now  so  hard  to  play. 
Trust  me,  you  will  be  glad  some  day 

That  I  have  ruled  your  choice.' 

Tears  trembled  on  the  lash,  and  now 
His  face  she  could  not  see  \ 


46o  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Once  more  she  pleaded,  as  they  fell, 
'  But  I  shall  never  play  it  well : 
It  is  too  hard  for  me  ! ' 

'  One  thing  I  grant,'  he  said  :  '  that  you 

May  fully,  freely  tell 
Your  father,  who  is  kind  and  wise : 
And,  Alice,  what  he  shall  advise, 

Say,  will  it  not  be  well  ? ' 

Again  she  came,  and  stumblingly 

The  hard  sonata  played  : 
Another  week  had  passed  away. 
With  toilsome  practice  every  day, 

Yet  small  the  progress  made. 

Her  father's  writing,  bold  and  clear, 

Lay  on  the  instrument : 
'  Your  letter  safely  came  to  me, 
And  now  shall  answer  lovingly 

To  my  dear  child  be  sent. 

*  The  hardest  gained  is  best  retained ; 

You  learn  not  for  to-day  : 
I  cannot  grant  your  fond  request 
Your  teacher  certainly  knows  best, — ■ 

So  trust  him  and  obey.' 

The  teacher  spoke ;  she  listened  well. 
No  word  of  his  to  miss  : 

*  Alice,  I  want  to  make  of  you 
An  artist,  noble,  high,  and  true ; 

And  no  light  thing  is  this. 


THE  MOONLIGHT  SONATA.  461 

•  There 's  happier,  better  work  in  store 

Than  merry  tunes  to  play  : 
You  have  a  mission  to  fulfil, — 
You  do  not  know  it ;  but  I  will 

Prepare  you  as  I  may. 

•  Will  you  believe  that  I  know  best, 

And  persevere,  my  child  ? ' 
She  answered,  with  a  little  sigh, 
'  Yes  :  I  will  trust,  and  I  will  try ; ' 

And  then  her  teacher  smiled. 


PART   II. 

Long  has  the  school  been  left  behind, 

For  years  have  passed  away  : 
We  find  her  now  where  evening  light 
Fades  not  into  the  darksome  night, 
But  melts  into  the  day. 

There,  in  an  arched  and  lofty  room, 

She  stands,  in  fair  white  dress ; 
Where  grace  and  colour  and  sweet  sound 
Combine  and  cluster  all  around. 
And  rarest  taste  express. 

'T  is  Alice  still,  but  woman  grown 

In  hand  and  head  and  heart : 
And  those  who  now  around  her  throng 
Are  skilled  in  music  and  in  song, 
In  learning  and  in  art. 


462  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


It  was  an  evening  of  delight 

To  be  remembered  long, 
With  many  a  reach  of  vivid  thought, 
And  many  a  vision  artist-wrought, 
And — crown  of  all  that  friendship  brought- 

The  eloquence  of  song. 


The  North  is  bright,  with  lingering  light 

To  Northern  summers  given, — 
A  tender  loveliness  that  stays 
When  twilight  falls  upon  the  days, 
As  silence  falls  in  heaven. 


*  Now,  Alice :  now  the  time  is  come  ! 

Sweet  music  you  have  poured  ; 
But,  in  this  gentle  twilight  fall, 
Give  now  the  very  best  of  all 

That  in  your  heart  is  stored. 

'  Give  now  the  Master's  masterpiece ; 

All  silent  we  will  be  : 
And  you  shall  stir  our  inmost  souls, 
While,  like  a  fiery  river,  rolls 

Beethoven's  harmony,' 

An  instrument  was  by  her  side, — 

A  new  and  glad  possession, 
Whose  perfect  answering  conveyed 
Each  delicate  and  subtle  shade 
Of  varying  expression. 


THE  MOONLIGHT  SONATA.  463 

She  needed  no  reminding  score, 

For  memory  was  true  : 
And  what  is  learnt  in  childish  years, 
Deep  graven  on  the  mind  appears 

Our  life's  whole  journey  through. 

And  so  she  only  had  to  let 

The  long-known  music  flow 
From  happy  heart  and  steady  hand, 
As  with  a  magic  flame-command, 
Enkindling  in  the  listening  band 

A  full  responsive  glow. 

Through  shade  more  beautiful  than  light. 

Through  hush  of  softest  word, 
Through  calm  and  silence,  still  and  deep 
As  angel-love  or  seraph  sleep, 

The  opening  notes  were  heard. 


The  Sonata. 
PART  I.  (adagio). 

Soft  and  slow, 
Ever  a  gentle  underflow ; 

Soft  and  slow, 
Murmuring  peacefully  on  below. 
A  twilight  song  ;  while  the  shadows  sleep 

Dusk  and  deep. 
Over  the  fountain,  under  the  fern, 


464  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Solemn  and  still : 
Waiting  for  moonlight  over  the  hill 
To  touch  the  bend  of  the  lulling  burn, 

And  make  it  show- 
As  a  diamond  bow, 
Shooting  arrows  of  glancing  light 

In  luminous  flight 
To  the  gloomy  head  of  the  waterfall ; 

Again  to  break, 

In  silvery  flake, 
Under  the  wild  and  grim  rock-wall. 
A  twilight  song,  a  song  of  love, 
Softer  than  nightingale,  sweeter  than  dov5  J 
Loving  and  longing,  loving  and  yearning, 
With  a  hidden  flow  of  electric  burning 

Ever  returning ; 
Melting  again  in  calm  repeat, 

Slow  and  sweet, 

Sweet  and  slow ; 
While  ever  the  gentle  underflow 
Murmurs  lovingly  on  below, 
In  notes  that  seem  to  come  from  far, — 

From  the  setting  star 

In  the  paling  west, 

Faint  and  more  faint. 
Like  the  parting  hymn  of  a  dying  saint 

Sinking  to  rest. 


A  moment  of  deep  hush  ;  then  wakes  again 
With  sudden  sparkle  of  delight, — a  new  and  joyous 
strain. 


THE  MO  ONLIGHT  SON  A  TA.  465 


PART  11,— (ALLEGRETTO.) 

Awake  !  awake  ! 

For  life  is  sweet : 
Awake  !  awake  ! 

New  hopes  to  greet 
The  shadows  are  fleeting, 

The  substance  is  sure  ; 
The  joys  thou  art  meeting 

Shall  ever  endure. 
Awake  !  awake  ! 

For  twilight  now 
That  veiled  the  lake 

Where  dark  woods  bow, 
In  moonlight  resplendent 

Is  passing  away  ; 
For  brightness  ascendant 

Turns  night  into  day. 
Oh,  listen  !  yet  listen  ! 

The  moonlight  song 
Where  still  waters  glisten 

Is  floating  along : 
A  melodious  ripple  of  silver  sound 
In  golden  rhythm  of  light-bars  bound, 
Linked  with  the  loveliness  all  around. 
A  song  of  hope, 

That  soars  beyond 
The  farthest  scope 

Of  a  vision  fond ; 
2  G 


i 


465  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

While  the  lonehest  silence  of  solemn  night, 

And  the  depth  of  shadow  beneath  our  feet, 

Only  make  the  song  more  sweet, — 

Only  make  the  sacred  light 

Yet  more  tender,  yet  more  bright ; 

And  song  and  radiance  both  entwining 

In  radiant  singing  and  musical  shining 

Float  on  and  on 
Till  the  night  is  gone, 

Ever  for  rest 

Far  too  blest. 
Then  wake,  then  wake 

From  slumberous  leisure ! 
Arise  and  take 

Thy  truest  pleasure ! 
A  life  is  before  thee  which  cannot  decay ; 
A  glimpse  and  an  echo  are  given  to-day 
Of  glory  and  music  not  far  away. 
Take  the  bliss  that  is  offered  thee  : 
Hope  on,  hope  ever,  and  thou  shalt  be 

Blest  for  aye  ! 


Once  more  a  pause  is  made  : 
While  deeper  still  the  silence,  deeper  yet  the  shade. 


PART  III. — (presto  agitato.) 


Now  in  awful  tempest  swellmg. 
Fallen  hosts  anew  rebelling, 
Battle  shout  and  lava  torrent 
Mingle  in  a  strife  abhorrent. 


THE  MOONLIGHT  SONATA.  467 

Fiery  cataracts  are  leaping, 
Passion-driven  stars  are  sweeping 
In  a  labyrinth  of  courses  ; 
Space  is  torn  with  clashing  forces  : 
'T  is  a  fearful  new  rehearsal 
Of  old  chaos  universal. 

Hush  1  and  hark  !  and  hear  aright, 

And  you  shall  know 

It  is  not  so  ! 
'T  is  the  roar  of  chariot  wheels, 
That  nothing  hinders,  nothing  bars. 
Whose  flint-sparkles  are  the  stars 

Flashing  bright ; 
And  the  mighty  thunder-peals 
Are  the  trampling  of  its  steeds. 

On  it  speeds, 
Crushing  wrongs  like  river-reeds, 
By  the  grandly  simple  might 

Of  Eternal  Right. 

*T  is  a  song — a  battle  song — 

And  a  shout  of  victory, 
Darting  through  the  conflict  strong 

Terror  to  the  enemy. 
Rising,  while  the  moon  is  setting 

That  beheld  the  struggle  sore ; 
Rising  still,  while  not  forgetting 

That  the  battle  is  not  o'er ; 
Rising,  while  the  day  is  breaking 

O'er  the  hills,  serene  and  strong ; 
Rising,  while  the  birds  are  waking 

With  their  myriad-throated  song  ; 


468  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Rising !  yet  with  much  to  do 
Ere  the  strife  be  ended  ! 
For  loud  confusion 
And  wild  delusion 
Are  rampant  still,  and  still  are  blended 
With  the  song  of  triumph  bursting  through. 
It  rises  to  fall  again  ; 
Falls,  but  to  rise ; 
Hushed,  but  to  call  again 

Loud  to  the  skies. 
Resounding  hke  thunder 

In  conquering  march, 
That  reverberates  under 
The  resonant  arch. 

Sternly  triumphant  o'er  wrongful  might, 
In  whirlwind  of  battle,  in  tempest  of  fight, 
See  the  singers  before  us, 
In  warrior  chorus. 
Never  despairing, 
Never  yielding : 
Ever  preparing 

And  faithfully  wielding 
Weapons  kept  bright. 
And  armour  of  light ; 
Shattering  barriers  that  seemed  adamantine, 
Spurning  the  depth  and  scaling  the  height 
While  over  all  the  turmoil  and  fray 
Shines,  in  the  dawn  that  heralds  the  day 
Star-lit,  a  crown  amaranthine. 

Yea  :  a  mighty  song. 

Of  joy  and  triumph  strong; 


THE  MOONLIGHT  SONATA.  46) 

Magnificent  in  madness, 
And  glorious  in  gladness. 
Every  obstacle  is  hurled 
To  an  infinite  abyss  ; 
Giant  standards  are  unfurled, — 
Banners  of  a  far-off  world 
Calling  followers  from  this ; 
Calling,  calling :  shall  it  be 
To  noble  failure  and  heroic  death  ? 
Lifted  with  a  parting  breath, 
Is  the  shout  of  victory 
Failing  fast  ? 
Is  the  only  crown  at  last 
Death— death  ? 

No! 
'T  is  not  so  ! 
For  light  and  life 
End  the  war  and  crown  the  strife. 
Joy  to  the  faithful  one  full  shall  be  given  ! 
Rising  in  splendour  that  never  shall  set, 
The  morning  of  triumph  shall  dawn  on  thee  yet 
When  gladness  and  love  for  ever  have  met 
In  heaven. 


She  ended.     For  a  little  space 

The  music  still  seemed  swelling; 
As  it  were  too  sweet  and  rare 
Like  common  sound  to  leave  the  air 
As  a  deserted  dwelling. 

Then,  through  the  flow  of  loving  thanks 
And  murmuring  delight. 


470  UNDER  THF  SURFACE. 

And  marvel  at  the  Master's  art, 
One  rich  approval  reached  her  heart 
More  than  all  else  that  night. 

One  who  had  also  freely  brought 

His  own  high  gift  of  song, 
Drew  near  and  spoke  :  '  For  many  a  year 
That  marvellous  work  has  been  most  dear,- 

Known,  loved,  and  studied  long. 

'  I  own,  like  you,  allegiance  true, 
And  deemed  my  insight  clear  ; 
But  never  guessed  until  to-night 
The  depths  of  meaning  and  the  might 
Of  what  you  rendered  here. 

'  The  Master  nas  been  much  to  me ; 
But  more  than  ever  now  I  see 

That  there  is  none  above  him. 
You  have  been  his  interpreter  : 
To  you  it  has  been  given  to  stir 

The  souls  of  all  who  love  him.' 

Then  swift  up-flashed  a  memory, — 

A  long-forgotten  day ; 
A  memory  of  tears  once  shed, 
Of  aching  hand  and  puzzled  head, 
And  of  the  father's  word  that  said, 

'  Trust  and  obey.' 

The  lesson  learnt  in  patience  then 
Was  lit  by  love  and  duty  : 


THE  MO  ON  LIGHT  SON  A  TA.  471 

The  toiling  time  was  quickly  past, 
The  trusting  time  had  fleeted  fast, 
And  Alice  understood  at  last 
Its  mysteries  of  beauty. 

O  glad,  perpetual  harvest-time 

After  the  sowing  days  ! 
For  all  her  life  rich  joy  of  sound, 
And  deep  delight  to  loved  ones  round, 

And  to  the  Master, — praise  ! 


Conclusion. 

Ye  read  her  story. 
Take  home  the  lesson  with  a  spirit-smile  : 
Darkness  and  mystery  a  little  while, 

Then — light  and  glory, 
And  ministry  'mid  saint  and  seraph  band, 
And  service  of  high  praise  in  the  Eternal  Land  ! 


Our  God. 


473 


THE  INFINITY  OF  GOD. 


475 


'Too  wonderful  for  me.' — Ps.  cxxxix.  6. 

Holy  and  Infinite  !    Viewless,  Eternal ! 

Veiled  in  the  glory  that  none  can  sustain, 
None  comprehendeth  Thy  being  supernal. 

Nor  can  the  heaven  of  heavens  contain. 

Holy  and  Infinite  !  limitless,  boundless 

All  Thy  perfections,  and  power,  and  praise  ! 

Ocean  of  mystery !  awful  and  soundless 

All  Thine  unsearchable  judgments  and  ways  ! 

King  of  Eternity !  what  revelation 

Could  the  created  and  finite  sustain. 
But  for  Thy  marvellous  manifestation. 

Godhead  incarnate  in  weakness  and  pain ! 

Therefore  archangels  and  angels  adore  Thee, 
Cherubim  wonder,  and  seraphs  admire ; 

Therefore  we  praise  Thee,  rejoicing  before  Thee, 
Joining  in  rapture  the  heavenly  choir. 

Glorious  in  holiness,  fearful  in  praises, 

Who  shall  not  fear  Thee,  and  who  shall  not  laud? 
Anthems  of  glory  Thy  universe  raises, 

Holy  and  Infinite  !     Father  and  God  ! 


476  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


TTbe  Splritualitii  of  <3o^ 

'God  is  a  Spirit.'— John  iv.  24. 

What  know  we,  Holy  God,  of  Thee, 
Thy  being  and  Thine  essence  pure  ? 

Too  bright  the  very  mystery 
For  mortal  vision  to  endure. 

We  only  know  Thy  word  sublime, 
Thou  art  a  Spirit !  Perfect !  One  ! 

Unlimited  by  space  or  time, 

Unknown  but  through  the  eternal  Son. 

By  change  untouched,  by  thought  untraced, 

And  by  created  eye  unseen. 
In  Thy  great  Fj-eseni  is  embraced 

All  that  shall  be,  all  that  hath  been. 

O  Father  of  our  spirits,  now 

We  seek  Thee  in  our  Saviour's  face  ; 
In  truth  and  spirit  we  would  bow, 

And  worship  where  we  cannot  trace. 

XTbe  Bternft^  of  6o5. 

'The  King  eternal,  immortal,  invisible.' — i  TiM.  i.  i/.^ 

King  Eternal  and  Immortal ! 

We,  the  children  of  an  hour, 
Bend  in  lowly  adoration^, 
Rise  in  raptured  admiration, 

At  the  whisper  of  Thy  power. 


THE  SOVEREIGNTY  OF  GOD.  477 


Myriad  ages  in  Thy  sight 
Are  but  as  the  fleeting  day; 

Like  a  vision  of  the  night, 

Worlds  may  rise  and  pass  away. 

All  Thy  glories  are  eternal, 

None  shall  ever  pass  away ; 
Truth  and  mercy  all  victorious, 
Righteousness  and  love  all  glorious, 
Shine  with  everlasting  ray  : 
All  resplendent,  ere  the  light 

Bade  primeval  darkness  flee ; 
All  transcendent,  through  the  flight 
Of  eternities  to  be. 

Thou  art  God  from  everlasting. 

And  to  everlasting  art ! 
Ere  the  dawn  of  shadowy  ages, 
Dimly  guessed  by  angel  sages. 
Ere  the  beat  of  seraph-heart ; 
Thou,  Jehovah,  art  the  same, 

And  Thy  years  shall  have  no  end 
Changeless  nature,  changeless  name, 
Ever  Father,  God,  and  Friend ! 

Z\iz  Soperetonti^  of  OoD. 

'  Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God.'— Ps.  xlvi.  10. 

God  Almighty  !    King  of  nations !    earth  Thy  footstool, 

heaven  Thy  throne  ! 
Thine  the  greatness,  power,  and  glory,  Thine  the  kingdom, 

Lord,  alone  J 


478  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Life    and    death    are    in    Thy   keeping,    and    Thy   will' 

ordaineth  all, 
From  the  armies  of  Thy  heavens  to  an  unseen  insect's 

fall 

Reigning,  guiding,  all-commanding,  ruling  myriad  worlds 

of  light ; 
Now  exalting,  now  abasing,  none  can  stay  Thy  hand  of 

might ! 
Working  all  things  by  Thy  power,  by  the  counsel  of  Thy 

will, 
Thou   art   God !   enough   to   know  it,  and  to  hear  Thy 

word  :  '  Be  still ! ' 

In  Thy  sovereignty  rejoicing,  we  Thy  children  bow  and 

praise, 
For  we  know  that  kind  and  loving,  just  and  true,  are  all 

Thy  ways. 
While  Thy  heart  of  sovereign  mercy  and  Thine  arm  of 

sovereign  might. 
For  our  great  and  strong  salvation,  in  Thy  sovereign  grace 

unite. 

tibe  Bssential  JBlessebness  of  6oC>. 

'Dwelling  in  the  light.' — i  TiM.  vi.  i6. 

O  GLORIOUS  God  and  King, 

O  gracious  Father,  hear 
The  praise  our  hearts  would  bring 

To  Thee,  who,  ever  near, 
Yet  in  eternity  dost  dwell. 
Immortal  and  invisible. 


THINE  IS  THE  POWER.  479 

Around  Thee  all  is  light, 

And  rest  of  perfect  lovr, 
And  glory  full  and  bright, 

All  human  thought  above : 
Thyself  the  Fountain  infinite 
Of  all  ineffable  dehght. 

O  depth  of  holy  bliss, 

Essential  and  Divine  I 
What  thought  can  measure  this, — 

Thy  joy.  Thy  glory, — Thine  ! 
Yet  such  our  treasure  evermore, 
Thy  fulness  is  Thy  children's  store. 

O  Father,  Thy  great  grace 

We  magnify  and  praise ; 
Called  to  that  blessed  place. 

With  Thee  through  endless  days 
Thy  joy  to  share,  'I'hy  joy  to  be, 
Thy  glory  all  unveiled  to  see ! 


ZTbine  is  tbe  iI>ower» 

Our  Father,  our  Father,  who  dwellcst  in  light, 
We  lean  on  Thy  love,  and  we  rest  on  Thy  might ; 
In  weakness  and  weariness  joy  shall  abound, 
For  strength  everlasting  in  Thee  shall  be  found  : 
Our  Refuge,  our  Helper  in  conflict  and  woe, 
Our  mighty  Defender,  how  blessed  to  know 
That  Thine  is  the  Power ! 


48o  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Our  Father,  Thy  promise  we  earnestly  claim, 
The  sanctified  heart  that  shall  hallow  Thy  Name, 
In  ourselves,  in  our  dear  ones,  throughout  the  wide  world, 
Be  Thy  Name  as  a  banner  of  glory  unfurled ; 
Let  it  triumph  o'er  evil  and  darkness  and  guilt, 
We  know  Thou  canst  do  it,  we  know  that  Thou  wilt, 
For  Thine  is  the  Power  ! 

Our  Father,  we  long  for  the  glorious  day 
When  all  shall  adore  Thee,  and  all  shall  obey. 
Oh  hasten  Thy  kingdom,  oh  show  forth  Thy  might, 
And  wave  o'er  the  nations  Thy  sceptre  of  right. 
Oh  make  up  Thy  jewels,  the  crown  of  Thy  love. 
And  reign  in  our  hearts  as  Thou  reignest  above, 
For  Thine  is  the  Power ! 

Our  Father,  we  pray  that  Thy  will  may  be  done, 
For  full  acquiescence  is  heaven  begun ; — 
Both  in  us  and  by  us  Thy  purpose  be  wrought, 
In  word  and  in  action,  in  spirit  and  thought  \ 
And  Thou  canst  enable  us  thus  to  fulfil, 
With  holy  rejoicing.  Thy  glorious  will, 
For  Thine  is  the  Power  ! 

Our  Father,  Thou  carest ;  Thou  knowest  indeed 
Our  inmost  desires,  our  manifold  need ; 
The  fount  of  Thy  mercies  shall  never  be  dry, 
For  Thy  riches  in  glory  shall  mete  the  supply ; 
Our  bread  shall  be  given,  our  water  be  sure, 
And  nothing  shall  fail,  for  Thy  word  shall  endure, 
And  Thine  is  the  Power  ! 


THINE  IS  THE  POWER.  4S1 

Our  Father,  forgive  us,  for  we  have  transgressed, 
Have  wounded  Thy  love,  and  forsaken  Thy  breast ; 
In  the  peace  of  Thy  pardon  henceforth  let  us  live. 
That  through  Thy  forgiveness  we  too  may  forgive; 
The  Son  of  Thy  love,  who  hath  taught  us  to  pray. 
For  Thy  treasures  of  mercy  hath  opened  the  way. 
And  Thine  is  the  Power ! 

Thou  knowest  our  dangers.  Thou  knowest  our  frame, 
But  a  tower  of  strength  is  Thy  glorious  name ; 
Oh,  lead  us  not  into  temptation,  we  pray, 
But  keep  us,  and  let  us  not  stumble  or  stray ; 
Thy  children  shall  under  Thy  shadow  abide ; 
In  Thee  as  our  Guide  and  our  Shield  we  confide, 
For  Thine  is  the  Power ! 

Our  Father,  deliver  Thy  children  from  sifi, 
From  evil  without  and  from  evil  within, 
From  this  world,  with  its  manifold  evil  and  wrong, 
From  the  wiles  of  the  Evil  One,  subtle  and  strong  \ 
Till,  as  Christ  overcame,  we,  too,  conquer  and  sing, 
All  glory  to  Thee,  our  victorious  King, 
For  Thine  is  the  Power  I 

Our  Father,  Thy  children  rejoice  in  Thy  reign. 
Rejoice  in  Thy  highness,  and  praise  Thee  again  ! 
Yea,  Thine  is  the  kingdom  and  Thine  is  the  might, 
And  Thine  is  the  glory  transcendently  bright ; 
For  ever  and  ever  that  glory  shall  shine, 
For  ever  and  ever  that  kingdom  be  Thine, 
For  Thine  is  the  Power  1 


3  H 


Our  Saviour, 


48a 


TO  THEE.  485 


Ube  ®ne  IRcaltti?. 

Fog-wreaths  of  doubt  in  blinding  eddies  drifted, 

Whirlwinds  of  fancy,  countergusts  of  thought, 

Shadowless  shadows  where  w'arm  lives  were  sought, 
Numb  feet,  that  feel  not  their  own  tread,  uplifted 
On  clouds  of  formless  wonder,  lightning-drifted  ! 

What  marvel  that  the  whole  world's  life  should  seem, 

To  helpless  intellect,  a  Brahma-dream, 
From  which  the  real  and  restful  is  out-sifted  ! 

Through  the  dim  storm  a  white  peace-bearing  Dove 
Gleams,  and  the  mist  rolls  back,  the  shadows  flee. 

The  dream  is  past.     A  clear  calm  sky  above. 
Firm  rock  beneath  ;  a  royal-scroUbd  tree. 

And  One,  thorn-diademed,  the  King  of  Love, 
The  Son  of  God,  who  gave  Himself  for  me. 


XTo  Ubee. 

'  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go  ? ' — John  vl.  68. 

I  BRING  my  sins  to  Thee, 
The  sins  I  cannot  count, 

That  all  may  cleansbd  be 
In  Thy  once  opened  Fount. 

I  bring  them.  Saviour,  all  to  Thee, 

The  burden  is  too  great  for  me. 


4S6  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

My  heart  to  Thee  I  bring, 
The  heart  I  cannot  read ; 

A  faithless,  wandering  thing, 
An  evil  heart  indeed. 

I  bring  it.  Saviour,  now  to  Thee, 

That  fixed  and  faithful  it  may  be. 

To  Thee  I  bring  my  care, 
The  care  I  cannot  flee ; 

Thou  wilt  not  only  share, 
But  bear  it  all  for  me, 

0  loving  Saviour,  now  to  Thee 

1  bring  the  load  that  wearies  me. 

I  bring  my  grief  to  Thee, 
The  grief  I  cannot  tell ; 

No  words  shall  needed  be, 
Thou  knowest  all  so  well. 

I  bring  the  sorrow  laid  on  me, 

0  suffering  Saviour,  now  to  Thee. 

My  joys  to  Thee  I  bring. 

The  joys  Thy  love  hath  given, 

That  each  may  be  a  wing 
To  lift  me  nearer  heaven. 

1  bring  them,  Saviour,  all  to  Thee, 
For  Thou  hast  purchased  all  for  me. 

My  life  I  bring  to  Thee, 
I  would  not  be  my  own ; 

O  Saviour,  let  me  be 
Thine  ever,  Thine  alone. 

My  heart,  my  life,  my  all  I  bring 

To  Thee,  my  Saviour  and  my  King ! 


/  COULD  NOT  DO  WITHOUT  THEE.  4S7 

Conti^ence♦ 

(impromptu  on  the  road  to  WARWICK.) 
I. 

In  Thee  I  trust,  on  Thee  I  rest, 
O  Saviour  dear,  Redeemer  blest ! 
No  earthly  friend,  no  brother  knows 
My  weariness,  my  wants,  my  woes. 

On  Thee  I  call, 

Who  knowest  all, 
O  Saviour  dear,  Redeemer  blest, 
In  Thee  I  trust,  on  Thee  I  rest. 

II. 

Thy  power,  Thy  love,  Thy  faithfulness, 
With  lip  and  life  I  long  to  bless. 
Thy  faithfulness  shall  be  my  tower, 
My  sun  Thy  love,  my  shield  Thy  power 

In  darkest  night. 

In  fiercest  fight. 
With  lip  and  life  I  long  to  bless 
Thy  power,  Thy  love,  Thy  faithfulness. 

3^  coulb  not  bo  wftbout  XTbee. 

I  COULD  not  do  without  Thee, 

O  Saviour  of  the  lost ! 
Whose  precious  blood  redeemed  me, 

At  such  tremendous  cost. 


iSS  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Thy  righteousness,  Thy  pardon, 
Thy  precious  blood  must  be 

My  only  hope  and  comfort, 
My  glory  and  my  plea  ! 

I  could  not  do  without  Thee  ! 

I  cannot  stand  alone, 
I  have  no  strength  or  goodness. 

No  wisdom  of  my  own. 
But  Thou,  belovbd  Saviour, 

Art  all  in  all  to  me ; 
And  weakness  will  be  power, 

If  leaning  hard  on  Thee. 

I  could  not  do  without  Thee ! 

For  oh  !  the  way  is  long. 
And  I  am  often  weary, 

And  sigh  replaces  song. 
How  could  I  do  without  Thee  ? 

I  do  not  know  the  way ; 
Thou  knowest  and  Thou  leadest, 

And  wilt  not  let  me  stray. 

I  could  not  do  without  Thee, 

0  Jesus,  Saviour  dear  ! 
E'en  when  my  eyes  are  holden, 

1  know  that  Thou  art  near. 
How  dreary  and  how  lonely 

This  changeful  life  would  be, 
Without  the  sweet  communion, 
The  secret  rest  with  Thee  1 


'JESUS  only:  4S9 


I  could  not  do  without  Thee  ! 

No  other  friend  can  read 
The  spirit's  strange  deep  longings, 

Interpreting  its  need. 
No  human  heart  could  enter 

Each  dim  recess  of  mine, 
And  soothe  and  hush  and  calm  it, 

O  blessed  Lord,  but  Thine  ! 

I  could  not  do  without  Thee  ! 

For  years  are  fleeting  fast, 
And  soon,  in  solemn  loneliness, 

The  river  must  be  passed. 
But  Thou  wilt  never  leave  me, 

And,  though  the  waves  roll  high, 
I  know  Thou  wilt  be  near  me, 

And  whisper,  *  It  is  I.' 


*  Jesus  onls^' 

Matt.  xvii.  8. 
I. 

'Jesus  only  !'     In  the  shadow 
Of  the  cloud  so  chill  and  dim, 

We  are  clinging,  loving,  trusting, 
He  with  us,  and  we  with  Him ; 

All  unseen,  though  ever  nigh, 

'Jesus  only' — all  our  cry. 


490  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


II. 


*  Jesus  only  ! '     In  the  glory, 
When  the  shadows  all  are  flown, 

Seeing  Him  in  all  His  beauty. 
Satisfied  with  Him  alone  ; 

May  we  join  His  ransomed  throng, 
'  Jesus  only ' — all  our  song ! 


5s  It  tot  me  ? 

'  O  Thou  whom  my  soul  loveth.' — Cant.  i.  7. 

Is  it  for  me,  dear  Saviour, 

Thy  glory  and  Thy  rest  ? 
For  me,  so  weak  and  sinful. 

Oh,  shall  /thus  be  blessed? 
Is  it  for  me  to  see  Thee 

In  all  Thy  glorious  grace. 
And  gaze  in  endless  rapture 

On  Thy  beloved  Face  ? 

Is  it  for  me  to  listen 

To  Thy  belovbd  Voice, 
And  hear  its  sweetest  music 

Bid  even  me  rejoice  ? 
Is  it  for  me.  Thy  welcome, 

Thy  gracious  '  Enter  in '  ? 
For  me,  Thy  'Come,  ye  blessed':' 

For  me,  so  full  of  sin  ? 


HIDDEN  IN  LIGHT.  491 


0  Saviour,  precious  Saviour, 
My  heart  is  at  Thy  feet ; 

1  bless  Thee  and  I  love  Thee, 
And  Thee  I  long  to  meet. 

A  thrill  of  solemn  gladness 
Has  hushed  my  very  heart. 

To  think  that  I  shall  really 
Behold  Thee  as  Thou  art ; 

Behold  Thee  in  Thy  beauty, 

Behold  Thee  face  to  face ; 
Behold  Thee  in  Thy  glory, 

And  reap  Thy  smile  of  grace  ; 
And  be  with  Thee  for  ever, 

And  never  grieve  Thee  more  ! 
Dear  Saviour,  I  viust  praise  Thee, 

And  lovingly  adore. 


When  first  the  sun  dispels  the  cloudy  night, 
The  glad  hills  catch  the  radiance  from  afar. 
And  smile  for  joy.     We  say,  *  How  fair  they  are. 

Tree,  rock,  and  heather-bloom,  so  clear  and  bright  1' 

But  when  the  sun  draws  near  in  westering  might. 
Enfolding  all  in  one  transcendent  blaze 
Of  sunset  glow,  we  trace  them  not,  but  gaze 

And  wonder  at  the  glorious,  holy  light. 

Come  nearer,  Sun  of  Righteousness  !  that  we, 
Whose  swift  short  hours  of  day  so  swiftly  run, 


492  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


So  overflowed  with  love  and  light  may  be, 

So  lost  in  glory  of  the  nearing  Sun, 
That  not  our  light,  but  Thine,  the  world  may  see, 

New  praise  to  Thee  through  our  poor  lives  be  won. 


1be  is  tbs  Xorb. 

•So  shall  the  King  greatly  desire  thy  beauty  ;  for  He  is  thy  Lord,  and 
worship  thou  Him.' — Ps.  xlv,  ii, 

Jesus,  beloved  Master,  art  Thou  near  ? 
My  heart  goes  forth  to  Thee  !     Thy  precious  Word 
Has  flashed  a  bright  yet  tender  thrill,  a  touch 
Of  living  light,  all  through  my  silent  soul. 

I  had  not  looked  for  it.     I  was  too  tired 
For  earnest  search,  and  could  not  rise  above 
A  sense  of  weary  pain,  that  drew  a  veil 
Of  mist  and  lonely  gloom  before  my  eyes. 
But  as  I  lay  and  waited  for  the  sleep 
That  had  been  asked,  the  Book  beside  my  hand 
Lured  me  to  glance  at  lightly  opening  leaves. 
Did  not  Thy  loving  Spirit  guide  the  glance 
That  fell  upon  the  unsought  word  of  power : 
^ He  is  thy  Lord!'     So  simple,  yet  so  strong, 
So  all-embracing  !  oh,  it  was  enough 
To  chase  away  all  mists  and  glooms  of  life. 

'  He  is  thy  Lord! '     Thyself,  O  Saviour  dear, 
And  not  another.     Whom  have  I  but  Thee 
In  heaven  or  earth  ?     And  whom  should  I  desire  ? 
For  Thou  hast  said,  '  So  sliall  tJie  King  desire  tliee  ! ' 


HE  IS  THY  LORD.  493 


And  well  may  I  respond  in  wondering  love, 
'  Thou  art  my  Lord,  and  I  will  worship  Thee.' 

*  He  IS  thy  Lord  I '     So  certainly  !  I  know 
My  glad  allegiance  has  been  given  to  Thee, 
Because  Thine  all-compelling  love  and  grace 
Have  won  the  citadel  which  else  had  stood 
Defiant,  till  God's  wrath  had  laid  it  low. 

So  certainly  !  a  fact  which  cannot  change 
Because  Thou  changest  not,  my  glorious  Lord. 

'  He  is  THY  Lord! '     Oh,  mine  !  though  other  lords 
Have  had  dominion,  now  I  know  Thy  name, 
And  its  great  music  is  the  only  key 
To  which  my  soul  vibrates  in  full  accord, 
Blending  with  other  notes  but  as  they  blend 
With  this.     Oh,  mine  !     But  dare  I  say  it,  /, 
Who  fail  and  wander,  mourning  oftentimes 
Some  sin-made  discord,  or  some  tuneless  string? 
It  would  be  greater  daring  to  deny, 
To  say,  '  Not  mine,'  when  Thou  hast  proved  to  me 
That  I  am  Thine,  by  promise  sealed  with  blood. 

•  He  is  thy  Lord  ! '     Oh,  I  am  glad  of  this. 
So  glad  that  Thou  art  Master,  Sovereign,  King  I 
Only  I  want  Thy  rule  to  be  supreme 

And  absolute ;  no  lurking  rebel  thought, 
No  traitor  in  disguise  to  pass  its  bounds. 
So  glad, — because  it  is  such  rest  to  know 
That  Thou  hast  ordered  and  appointed  all, 
And  wilt  yet  order  and  appoint  my  lot. 


494  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


For  though  so  much  I  cannot  understand, 

And  would  not  choose,  has  been,  and  yet  may  be, 

Thou  choosest  and  Thou  rulest,  Thou,  my  Lord  ! 

And  this  is  peace,  such  peace, — I  hardly  pause 

To  look  beyond  to  all  the  coming  joy 

And  glory  of  Thy  full  and  visible  reign  : 

Thou  reignest  now — '■He  is  thy  Lord!'  to-day  ! 


'  My  Lord!'     My  heart  hath  said  it  joyfully. 
Nay,  could  it  be  my  own  cold,  treacherous  heart  ? 
'T  is  comfort  to  remember  that  we  have 
No  will  or  power  to  think  one  holy  thought, 
And  thereby  estimate  His  power  in  us, — 
'■No  man  can  say  that  Jesus  is  the  Lord, 
But  by  the  Holy  Ghost.'     Then  it  must  be 
That  all  the  sweetness  of  the  word,  '  Thy  Lord,' 
And  all  the  long  glad  echoes  that  it  woke, 
Are  whispers  of  the  Spirit,  and  a  seal 
Upon  His  work,  as  yet  so  faintly  seen. 


'  My  Lord,  my  God! '    Thou  hearest,  blessed  Lord, 
Thou  knowest  how,  like  Mary,  I  would  bend 
At  Thy  beloved  feet,  if  Thou  wert  here  ! 
'  If  Thou  wert  here  ? '    But  surely  Thou  art  here, 
And  I  beheve  it,  though  I  cannot  see. 
I  should  not  love  Thee  now  wert  Thou  not  near. 
Looking  on  me  in  love.     Yea,  Thou  dost  meet 
Those  that  remember  Thee.     Look  on  me  still, 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  let  Thy  look  give  strength 
To  work  for  Thee  with  single  heart  and  eye. 


OUR  KING.  495 


®ut  Iking. 

'Worship  thou  Him.'— Ps.  xlv.  ii. 

O  Saviour,  precious  Saviour, 
Whom  yet  unseen  we  love ; 
O  Name  of  might  and  favour. 
All  other  names  above  ! 

We  worship  Thee,  we  bless  Thee, 

To  Thee  alone  we  sing  ; 
We  praise  Thee,  and  confess  Thee 
Our  holy  Lord  and  King ! 

O  Bringer  of  salvation. 

Who  wondrously  hast  wrought, 
Thyself  the  revelation 

Of  love  beyond  our  thought ! 

We  worship  Thee,  we  bless  Thee, 

To  Thee  alone  we  sing ; 
We  praise  Thee,  and  confess  Thee 
Our  gracious  Lord  and  King  ! 

In  Thee  all  fulness  dwelleth, 

All  grace  and  power  divine ; 
The  glory  that  excelleth, 
O  Son  of  God,  is  Thine  : 

We  worship  Thee,  we  bless  Thee, 

To  Thee  alone  we  sing ; 
We  praise  Thee,  and  confess  Thee 
Our  glorious  Lord  and  King  ! 


496  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Oh,  grant  the  consummation 

Of  this  our  song  above, 
In  endless  adoration, 
And  everlasting  love : 

Then  shall  we  praise  and  bless  Thee, 

Where  perfect  praises  ring, 
And  evermore  confess  Thee 
Our  Saviour  and  our  King ! 

Hscensfon  Sena, 

*  He  ascended  up  on  high.' — Eph.  iv.  8. 

Golden  harps  are  sounding, 

Angel  voices  ring, 
Pearly  gates  are  opened — ■ 

Opened  for  the  King ; 
Christ,  the  King  of  Glory, 

Jesus,  King  of  Love, 
Is  gone  up  in  triumph 
To  His  throne  above. 
All  His  work  is  ended, 

Joyfully  we  sing, 
Jesus  hath  ascended ! 
Glory  to  our  King  ! 

He  who  came  to  save  us. 

He  who  bled  and  died, 
Now  is  crowned  with  glory 

At  His  Father's  side. 
Never  more  to  suffer, 

Never  more  to  die 


ADVENT  SONG.  497 


Jesus,  King  of  Glory, 
Is  gone  up  on  high. 
All  His  work  is  ended, 

Joyfully  we  sing, 
Jesus  hath  ascended ! 
Glory  to  our  King  ! 

Praying  for  His  children. 

In  that  blessed  place, 
Calling  them  to  glory, 

Sending  them  His  grace  \ 
His  bright  home  preparing, 

Faithful  ones,  for  you ; 
Jesus  ever  liveth, 
Ever  loveth  too. 

All  His  work  is  ended, 

Joyfully  we  sing, 
Jesus  hath  ascended ! 
Glory  to  our  King ! 


HDvent  Sona. 

Thou  art  coming,  O  my  Saviour ! 

Thou  art  coming,  O  my  King  ! 
In  Thy  beauty  all-resplendent, 
In  Thy  glory  all-transcendent ; 

Well  may  we  rejoice  and  sing ! 
Coming  !  in  the  opening  east, 

Herald  brightness  slowly  swells  ; 

Coming  !  O  my  glorious  Priest, 

Hear  we  not  Thy  golden  bells  ? 
2  I 


498  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Thou  art  coming,  Thou  art  coming  ! 

We  shall  meet  Thee  on  Thy  way, 
We  shall  see  Thee,  we  shall  know  Thee, 
We  shall  bless  Thee,  we  shall  show  Thee 

All  our  hearts  could  never  say  ! 
What  an  anthem  that  will  be, 
Ringing  out  our  love  to  Thee, 
Pouring  out  our  rapture  sweet 
At  Thine  own  all-glorious  feet ! 

Thou  art  coming  !     Rays  of  glory, 
Through  the  veil  Thy  death  has  rent. 

Touch  the  mountain  and  the  river 

With  a  golden  glowing  quiver. 
Thrill  of  light  and  music  blent. 

Earth  is  brightened  when  this  gleam 

Falls  on  flower  and  rock  and  stream ; 

Life  is  brightened  when  this  ray 

Falls  upon  its  darkest  day. 

Not  a  cloud  and  not  a  shadow, 

Not  a  mist  and  not  a  tear. 
Not  a  sin  and  not  a  sorrow. 
Not  a  dim  and  veiled  to-morrow, 

For  that  sunrise  grand  and  clear  ! 
Jesus,  Saviour,  once  with  Thee, 

Nothing  else  seems  worth  a  thought ! 
Oh,  how  marvellous  will  be 

All  the  bliss  Thy  pain  hath  bought ! 

Thou  art  coming !     At  Thy  table 
We  are  witnesses  for  this, 


ADVENT  SONG.  499 


While  remembering  hearts  Thou  meetest, 
In  communion  clearest,  sweetest, 

Earnest  of  our  coming  bliss. 
Showing  not  Thy  death  alone, 

And  Thy  love  exceeding  great, 
But  Thy  coming  and  Thy  throne, 

All  for  which  we  long  and  wait. 

Thou  art  coming !     We  are  waiting 

With  a  hope  that  cannot  fail ; 
Asking  not  the  day  or  hour, 
Resting  on  Thy  word  of  power 

Anchored  safe  within  the  veil. 
Time  appointed  may  be  long. 

But  the  vision  must  be  sure : 
Certainty  shall  make  us  strong, 

Joyful  patience  can  endure  I 

Oh,  the  joy  to  see  Thee  reigning, 

Thee,  my  own  belovbd  Lord  ! 
Every  tongue  Thy  name  confessing, 
Worship,  honour,  glory,  blessing. 

Brought  to  Thee  with  glad  accord  I 
Thee,  my  Master  and  my  Friend, 

Vindicated  and  enthroned ! 
Unto  earth's  remotest  end 

Glorified,  adored,  and  owned  1 


OvR  Work. 

'  Workers  together  with  Ilim.' — 2  CoR.  vi.  i. 
'  Serve  the  Lord  with  gladness  :  come  before  His  presence  with 
singing.' — Ps.  c.  2. 


HAVE  YOU  NOT  A   WORD  FOR  JESUS?  503 


Ibave  350U  not  a  Mor&  tor  Jesus? 

•  O  Lord,  open  Thou  my  lips  ;  and  my  mouth  shall  show  forth  Thy 
praise.' — Ps.  li.  15. 

Have  you  not  a  word  for  Jesus  ?  not  a  word  to  say  for 

Him? 
He  is  listening  through  the  chorus  of  the  burning  seraphim  ! 
He  is  listening;    does  He  hear  you  speaking  of  the 

things  of  earth, 
Only  of  its  passing  pleasure,  selfish  sorrow,  empty  mirth  ? 
He  has  spoken  words  of  blessing,  pardon,  peace,  and  love 

to  you, 
Glorious  hopes  and  gracious  comfort,  strong  and  tender, 

sweet  and  true ; 
Does  He  hear  you  telling  others  something  of  His  love 

untold, 
Overflo\vings  of  thanksgiving  for  His  mercies  manifold  ? 

Have  you  not  a  word  for  Jesus?      Will  the  world  His 

praise  proclaim  ? 
Who  shall  speak  if  ye  are  silent  ?  ye  who  know  and  love 

His  name. 
You,  whom  He  hath  called  and  chosen  His  own  witnesses 

to  be. 
Will  you  tell  your  gracious  Master,    'Lord,    we   cannot 

speak  for  Thee  '  ? 


504  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

*  Cannot ! '  though  He  suffered  for  you,  died  because  He 

loved  you  so  ! 
'  Cannot ! '  though  He  has  forgiven,  making  scarlet  white 
as  snow ! 

*  Cannot ! '    though   His  grace  abounding  is  your  freely 

promised  aid ! 
'Cannot ! '  though  He  stands  beside  you,  though  He  says, 
*  Be  not  afraid ! ' 

Have  you  not  a  word  for  Jesus  ?    Some,  perchance,  while 

ye  are  dumb, 
Wait  and  weary  for  your  message,  hoping  yoii  will  bid  thein 

'  come ' ; 
Never  telling  hidden  sorrows,  lingering  just  outside  the 

door. 
Longing  for  your  hand  to  lead   them  into  rest  for  ever- 
more. 
Yours  may  be  the  joy  and  honour  His  redeemed  ones  to 

bring, 
Jewels  for  the  coronation  of  your  coming  Lord  and  King, 
Will  you  cast  away  the  gladness  thus  your  Master's  joy  to 

share, 
All  because  a  word  for  Jesus  seems  too  much  for  you  tq 

dare? 

What  shall  be  our  word  for  Jesus  ?     Master,  give  it  day 

by  day ; 
Ever  as  the   need   arises,   teach   Thy  children   what   to 

say. 
Give  us  holy  love  and  patience ;  grant  us  deep  humility, 
That  of  self  we  may  be  emptied,  and  our  hearts  be  full  of 

Thee; 


HAVE  YOU  NOT  A   WORD  FOR  JESUS  1  505 

Give  us  zeal  and  faith  and  fervour,  make  us  winning, 

make  us  wise, 
Single-hearted,  strong  and  fearless, — Thou  hast  called  us, 

we  will  rise ! 
Let  the  might  of  Thy  good  Spirit  go  with  every  loving 

word ; 
And  by  hearts   prepared   and   opened   be  our  message 

always  heard  ! 

Yes,  we  have  a  word  for  Jesus !     Living  echoes  we  will  be 
Of  Thine  own  sweet  words  of  blessing,  of  Thy  gracious 

'  Come  to  Me.' 
Jesus,  Master !  yes,  we  love  Thee,  and  to  prove  our  love, 

would  lay 
Fruit  of  lips  which  Thou  wilt  open,  at  Thy  blessed  feet 

to-day. 
Many  an  effort  it  may  cost  us,  many  a  heart-beat,  many  a 

fear, 
But  Thou  knowest,  and  wilt  strengthen,  and  Thy  help  is 

always  near. 
Give  us  grace  to  follow  fully,  vanquishing  our  faithless 

shame, 
Feebly  it  may  be,  but  truly,  witnessing  for  Thy  dear  Name. 

Yes,  we  have  a  word  for  Jesus !  we  will  bravely  speak  for 

Thee, 
And  Thy  bold  and  faithful  soldiers,  Saviour,  we  would 

henceforth  be  : 
In  Thy  name  set  up  our  banners,  while  Thine  own  shall 

wave  above. 
With  Thy  crimson  Name  of  Mercy,  and  Thy  golden  Name 

of  Love. 


5o6  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Help  us  lovingly  to  labour,  looking  for  Thy  present  smile, 

Looking  for  Thy  promised  blessing,  through  the  brighten- 
ing '  little  while.' 

Words  for  Thee  in  weakness  spoken,  Thou  wilt  here 
accept  and  own, 

And  confess  them  in  Thy  glory,  when  we  see  Thee  on 
Thy  throne. 


H  Morftef  s  prater* 

Lord,  speak  to  me,  that  I  may  speak 
In  living  echoes  of  Thy  tone ; 

As  Thou  hast  sought,  so  let  me  seek 
Thy  erring  children,  lost  and  lone. 

O  lead  me.  Lord,  that  I  may  lead 

The  wandering  and  the  wavering  feet ; 

O  feed  me.  Lord,  that  I  may  feed 

Thy  hungering  ones  with  manna  sweet. 

0  strengthen  me,  that  while  I  stand 
Firm  on  the  Rock  and  strong  in  Thee, 

1  may  stretch  out  a  loving  hand 

To  wrestlers  with  the  troubled  sea 


O  teach  me.  Lord,  that  I  may  teach 
The  precious  things  Thou  dost  impart; 

And  wing  my  words,  that  they  may  reach 
The  hidden  depths  of  many  a  heart. 


OUR  COMMISSION.  507 

O  give  Thine  own  sweet  rest  to  me, 
That  I  may  speak  with  soothing  power 

A  word  in  season,  as  from  Thee, 
To  weary  ones  in  needful  hour. 

O  fill  me  with  Thy  fulness,  Lord, 

Until  my  ve^  heart  o'erflow 
In  kindling  thought  and  glowing  word, 

Thy  love  to  tell.  Thy  praise  to  show. 

O  use  me,  Lord,  use  even  me, 

Just  as  Thou  wilt,  and  when,  and  where ; 
Until  Thy  blessbd  Face  I  see, 

Thy  rest,  Thy  joy,  Thy  glory  share. 


©ur  Commission. 

'  And  tlie  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say,  Come.     And  let  him  that  heareth 
say,  Come.' — Rev.  xxii.  17. 

Ye  who  hear  the  blessed  call 

Of  the  Spirit  and  the  Bride, 
Hear  the  Master's  word  to  all. 

Your  commission  and  your  guide — 
'  And  let  him  that  heareth  say, 

Come,'  to  all  yet  far  away. 

'  Come  ! '  alike  to  age  and  youth; 

Tell  them  of  our  Friend  above, 
Of  His  beauty  and  His  truth, 

Preciousness  and  grace  and  love; 
Tell  them  what  you  know  is  true, 
Tell  them  what  He  is  to  you. 


5o8  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

*  Come  ! '  to  those  who  never  heard 

Why  the  Saviour's  blood  was  shed ; 
Bear  to  them  the  message-word 

That  can  quicken  from  the  dead  \ 
Tell  them  Jesus  '  died  for  all,' 
Tell  them  of  His  loving  call. 

*  Come  ! '  to  those  who  do  not  care 

For  the  Saviour's  precious  death, 
Having  not  a  thought  to  spare 

For  the  gracious  words  He  saith  : 
Ere  the  shadows  gather  deep, 
Rouse  them  from  their  fatal  sleep. 

'  Come  ! '  to  those  who,  while  they  hear, 
Linger,  hardly  knowing  why ; 

Tell  them  that  the  Lord  is  near, 
Tell  them  Jesus  passes  by. 

Call  them  now ;  oh,  do  not  wait, 

Lest  to-morrow  be  too  late  ! 

'  Come  ! '  to  those  who  wander  far, 
Seeking,  never  finding,  rest ; 

Point  them  to  the  Morning  Star  ; 
Show  them  how  they  may  be  blest 

With  the  love  that  cannot  cease, 

Joyful  hope  and  perfect  peace. 

*  Come  ! '  to  those  who  draw  in  vain 

From  the  broken  cisterns  here, 
Drinking  but  to  thirst  again ; 

Tell  them  of  the  fountain  near. 
Living  water,  flowing  still. 
Free  for  '  whosoever  will.' 


OUR  COMMISSION.  509 


*  Come  ! '  to  those  who  faint  and  groan 

Under  some  unuttered  grief, 
Hearts  that  suffer  all  alone ; 

Try  to  bring  them  true  relief. 
Tell  them  '  Jesus  wept,'  and  He 
Still  is  full  of  sympathy. 

*  Come ! '  to  those  who  feel  their  sin, 

Fearing  to  be  lost  at  last, 
Mourning  for  the  plague  within, 

Mourning  for  transgressions  pasi- ; 
Tell  them  Jesus  calls  them  in, 
Heavy  laden  with  their  sin. 

Such  as  these  are  all  around. 
Meeting,  passing,  every  day ; 

Ye  who  know  the  joyful  sound. 
Have  ye  not  a  word  to  say  ? 

Ye  who  hear  that  blessed  '  Come,' 

Sweet  and  clear,  can  ye  be  dumb  ? 

Brothers,  sisters,  do  not  wait, 

Speak  for  Him  who  speaks  to  you  I 

Wherefore  should  you  hesitate  ? 
This  is  no  great  thing  to  do. 

Jesus  only  bids  you  say, 

'  Come  ! '  and  will  you  not  obey  ? 

Lord !  to  Thy  command  we  bow, 
Touch  our  lips  with  altar  fire  ; 

Let  Thy  Spirit  kindle  now 

Faith  and  zeal,  and  strong  desire  j 

So  that  henceforth  we  may  be 

Fellow-workers,  Lord,  with  Thee. 


5IO  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


SiiiGing  for  S^esus. 

_  'With  my  song  will  I  praise  Him.' — Ps.  xxviii.  7. 

Singing  for  Jesus,  our  Saviour  and  King, 
Singing  for  Jesus,  the  Lord  whom  we  love  j 

All  adoration  we  joyously  bring. 

Longing  to  praise  as  we  praise  Him  above. 

Singing  for  Jesus,  our  Master  and  Friend, 
Telling  His  love  and  His  marvellous  grace, 

Love  from  eternity,  love  without  end. 

Love  for  the  loveless,  the  sinful  and  base. 

Singing  for  Jesus,  and  trying  to  win 

Many  to  love  Him,  and  join  in  the  song; 

Calling  the  weary  and  wandering  in. 
Rolling  the  chorus  of  gladness  along. 

Singing  for  Jesus,  our  Life  and  our  Light ; 

Singing  for  Him  as  we  press  to  the  mark ; 
Singing  for  Him  when  the  morning  is  bright, 

Singing,  still  singing,  for  Him  in  the  dark. 

Singing  for  Jesus,  our  Shepherd  and  Guide, 
Singing  for  gladness  of  heart  that  He  gives ; 

Singing  for  wonder  and  praise  that  He  died, 
Singing  for  blessing  and  joy  that  He  lives. 

Singing  for  Jesus,  oh,  singing  with  joy ! 

Thus  will  we  praise  Him  and  tell  out  His  love, 
Till  He  shall  call  us  to  brighter  employ, 

Singing  for  Jesus  for  ever  above. 


A  SILENCE  AND  A  SONG.  511 


H  Silence  anb  a  Song. 

I  AM  alone,  dear  Master — 
Alone  in  heart  with  Thee  ! 

Though  merry  faces  round  me 
And  loving  looks  I  see. 

There's  a  hush  among  the  blithe  ones, 
While  a  pleasant  voice  is  heard, 

A  truce  to  all  the  tournament 
Of  flashing  wit  and  word. 

And  in  that  truce  of  silence, 

I  lay  aside  my  lance, 
And  through  the  light  and  music  send 

One  happy  upward  glance. 

I  know  not  what  the  song  may  be, 

The  words  I  cannot  hear ; 
'T  is  but  a  gentle  melody, 

All  simple,  soft,  and  clear. 

But  the  sweetness  and  the  quiet 

Have  set  my  spirit  free, 
And  I  turn  in  loving  gladness, 

Dear  Master,  now  to  Thee. 

I  know  I  love  Thee  better 

Than  any  earthly  joy. 
For  Thou  hast  given  me  the  peace 

Which  nothing  can  destroy. 


512  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


I.  know  that  Thou  art  nearer  stiil 
Than  all  this  merry  throng, 

And  sweeter  is  the  thought  of  Thee 
Than  any  lovely  song. 

Thou  hast  put  gladness  in  my  heart, 
Then  well  may  I  be  glad ! 

Without  the  secret  of  Thy  love, 
I  could  not  but  be  sad. 


I  bless  Thee  for  these  pleasant  hours 
With  sunny-hearted  friends, 

But  more  for  this  sweet  moment's  calm 
Thy  loving-kindness  sends. 


O  Master,  gracious  Master, 
What  will  Thy  presence  be, 

If  such  a  thrill  of  joy  can  crown 
One  upward  look  to  Thee  ? 

'T  is  ending  now,  that  gentle  song, 
And  they  will  call  for  me ; 

They  know  the  music  I  love  best,- 
My  song  shall  be  for  Thee  I 

For  Thee,  who  hast  so  loved  us, 
And  whom,  not  having  seen, 

We  love;  on  whom  in  all  our  joy, 
As  in  our  grief,  we  lean. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  HEALER,  513 


Be  near  me  still,  and  tune  my  notes, 
And  make  them  sweet  and  strong, 

To  waft  Thy  words  to  many  a  heart 
Upon  the  wings  of  song. 

I  know  that  all  will  listen, 
For  my  very  heart  shall  sing. 

And  it  shall  be  Thy  praise  alone, 
My  glorious  Lord  and  King. 


TTbe  ComfitQ  of  tbe  Ibealer, 

'  They  came  into  the  land  of  Gennesaret.  And  when  the  men  of  that 
place  had  knowledge  of  Him,  they  sent  out  into  all  that  country  round 
about,  and  brought  unto  Him  all  that  were  diseased  ;  and  besought  Him 
that  they  might  only  touch  the  hem  of  His  garment :  and  as  many  as 
touched  were  made  perfectly  whole,' — Matt.  xiv.  34-36. 

From  the  watch  of  lonely  mountain  prayer,  in  gathering 

storm  and  blast — 
From  the  path  no  mortal  foot  could  tread,  o'er  waters 

wild  and  vast, 
He  came,  the  glorious  Son  of  God,  with  healing,  love, 

and  light, 
To  the  land  of  far  Gennesaret,  that  lay  in  shadowy  night. 

Oh  blessed   morning,    sunrise    true,    upon    that    gloomy 

shore ! 
Where  they  who  walked  in  darkness  long,  the  Light  of 

Life  adore. 

Oh  blessed  coming  to  the  land  of  Death's  usurping  sway ; 

For  where  those  shining  footsteps  fall,  the  shadows  flee 

away ! 

2  K 


514  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

But  when  the  Light  had  touched  the  hills  by  slumbering 

Galilee, 
The   golden  wave   must   roll   afar  towards   the   western 

sea: 
And  when  the  men  had  knowledge  of  the  Holy  One  of 

God, 
Then  they  sent  out  through  all  the  land,  and  spread  His 

fame  abroad. 

And  then  they  brought  the  suffering  ones,  the  lonely,  or 

the  dear, 
And  laid  them  at  the  Healer's  feet,  from  far  away,  or 

near: 
Then  bent  before   the   Wondrous    One,   and    earnestly 

besought 
That  they  might  only  touch  the  hem  around  His  garment 

wrought. 

He  heard  the  prayer,  and  gave  the  will  and  strength  to 

touch  the  hem ; 
And  gave  the  faith,  and  virtue  flowed  from  Him,  and 

healbd  them : 
For  every  one  whose  feeblest  touch  thus  met  the  Saviour's 

power. 
Rose  up  in  perfect  health  and  strength  in  that  accepted 

hour. 

O  Tender  One,  O  Mighty  One,  who  never  sent  away 
The  sinner  or  the  sufferer,  Thou  art  The  Same  to-day ! 
The  Same  in  Love,  the  Same  in  Power,  and  Thou  art 

waiting  still, 
To  heal  the  multitudes  that  come,  yea,  '  whosoever  will  1 ' 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  HEALER.  515 

We  know  Thee,  blessed  Saviour,  who  hast  '  filled  us  with 

good  things ; ' 
Thou  hast  arisen  on  our  land,  with  healing  in  Thy  wings ; 
Thou  hast  arisen  on  our  hearts,  with  light  and  life  Divine ; 
Now  bid  us  be  Thy  messengers,  bid  us  '  arise  and  shine  ! ' 

Oh,  let  Thy  Spirit  fire  our  zeal,  that  we  may  now  '  send 

out,' 
And  tell  that  Thou  art  come  'in  all  the  country  round 

about,' — 
That  Thou  art  waiting  now  to  heal,  that  Thou  art  strong 

to  save, 
That  Thou  hast  spoilt  the  Spoiler,  Death,  and  triumphed 

o'er  the  grave. 

Oh,  make  us  fervent  in  the  quest,  that  we  may  bring  them 

in, 
The  weary  and  the  wounded,  and  the  sufferers  from  sin ; 
The  stricken  and  the  dying,  let  us  seek  them  out  for  Thee, 
And  lay  them  at  Thy  glorious  feet,  that  healbd  they  may 

be. 

Oh,  pour  upon  our  waiting  hearts  the  Spirit  of  Thy  grace, 
That  we  may  plead  with  Thee  to  show  the  brightness  of 

Thy  face, 
Beseeching  Thee  to  grant  the  will  and  strength  and  faith 

to  such 
As  lie  in  helpless  misery,  Thy  garment's  hem  to  touch. 

And  then,  Lord  Jesus,  make  them  whole,  that  they  may 

rise  and  bring 
New  praise  and  glory  unto  Thee,  our  Healer  and  our  King ; 


5i6  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Yea,  let  Thy  saving  health  be  known  through  all  the  earth 

abroad, 
So  shall  the  people  praise  Thy  Name,  our  Saviour  and  our 

God. 


Bnotber  for  Cbrfst. 

Another  called,  another  brought,  dear  Master,  to  Thy 

feet! 
Oh,  where  are  words  to  tell  the  joy  so  wonderful  and 

sweet ! 
Oh,  where  are  words  to  give  Thee  thanks  that  Thou  indeed 

hast  heard, 
That  Thou   hast  proved  and  sealed  anew  Thy  faithful 

promise-word ! 

We  prayed  so  long,  with  fervent  hope  and  patient  faith, 

that  she 
With  all  her  early  wealth  of  love  might  give  herself  to 

Thee  ; 
Well  knowing  that  our  prayer  must  be  the  echo  of  Thy 

will, 
Itself  the  earnest  and  the  pledge  that  Thou  wilt  all  fulfil. 

And  now  the  prayer  is  turned  to  praise,   and  with  the 

angel-throng, 
Who  even  now  are  pouring  forth  a  new  and  joyful  song, 
Our  hearts  ascend,  our  whispers  blend,  in  deepest  thrill  of 

praise. 
The  happiest  Alleluia-hymn  that  human  heart  can  rais^. 


ANOTHER  FOR  CHRIST.  517 

Oh,  joy  to  know  that  Thou  hast  found  Thy  fair  and  weary 

dove, 
Rejoicing  o'er  the  wanderer  now,  and  resting  in  Thy  love, 
That  Thou  art  glad,  that  Thou  hast  seen  the  travail  of  Thy 

soul, 
Thy  blessed  Name  emblazoned  on  a  new  and  living  scroll  1 

O  Master,  blessed  Master,  it  is  hard  indeed  to  know 
Tliat  thousands  round  our  daily  path  misunderstand  Thee 

so  ! 
Despised  and  rejected  yet,  no  beauty  they  can  see, 
O  King  of  glory  and  of  grace,  beloved  Lord,  in  Thee ! 

Not  even  as  a  lovely  song  of  pleasant  voice  appears 
The  story  of  Thy  wondrous  love  in  dull  and  drowsy  ears ; 
T  is  nothing  to  the  passers-by,  who  coldly  turn  aside, 
That  Thou  hast  poured  Thy  precious  blood,  that  Thou 
wast  crucified. 

O  Saviour,  precious  Saviour,  come  in  all  Thy  power  and 

grace, 
And  take  away  the  veil  that  hides  the  glory  of  Thy  face  ! 
Oh,  manifest  the  marvels  of  Thy  tenderness  and  love. 
And  let  Thy  Name  be  blessed  and  praised  all  other  names 

above. 

Oh,   vindicate  Thyself,  and  show  how  perfect   are  Thy 

ways, 
Untraceable,  because  too  bright  for  weak  and  mortal  gaze; 
Shine  forth,  O  Sun,  and  bid  the  scales  of  darkening  evil 

fall, 
Thou  Altogether  Lovely  One,  Thou  glorious  All-in  all  1 


5i8  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Yet  conquering  Thy  word  goes  forth  on  all-triumphant 

way ! 
'  Ye  shall  be  gathered  one  by  one,'  't  is  true  afresh  to-day  ! 
And  so  we  hush  the  yearning  cry,  '  How  long,  O  Lord, 

how  long  ? ' 
A  sweet  new  token  Thou  hast  given  to  change  it  into  song. 

So  once  again  we  praise  Thee,  with  Thy  holy  ones  above. 
Because  another  heart  has  seen  Thy  great  and   mighty 

love; 
Another  heart  will  own  Thee  Lord,  and  worship  Thee  as 

King, 
And  grateful  love  and  glowing  praise  and  willing  service 

bring. 

Another  voice  to  '  tell  it  out '  what  great  things  Thou  hast 

done. 
Another  life  to  live  for  Thee,  another  witness  won. 
Another  faithful  soldier  on  our  Captain's  side  enrolled, 
Another  heart  to  read  aright  Thy  heart  of  love  untold  I 


*1bovv  Mon^erfuU* 

He  answered  all  my  prayer  abundantly. 

And  crowned  the  work  that  to  His  feet  I  brought, 
With  blessing  more  than  I  had  asked  or  thought — 

A  blessing  undisguised,  and  fair,  and  free. 

I  stood  amazed,  and  whispered,  '  Can  it  be 
That  He  hath  granted  all  the  boon  I  sought  ? 
How  wonderful  that  He  for  me  hath  wrought ! 

How  wonderful  that  He  hath  answered  me  ! ' 


VALIANT  FOR  THE  TRUTH.  519 

O  faithless  heart !     He  said  that  He  would  hear 
And  answer  Thy  poor  prayer,  and  He  hath  heard 

And  proved  His  promise.     Wherefore  didst  thou  fear  ? 
Why  marvel  that  Thy  Lord  hath  kept  His  word  ? 

More  wonderful  if  He  should  fail  to  bless 

Expectant  faith  and  prayer  with  good  success  ! 


IDaltant  lox  tbe  XTrutb, 

'  Ye  should  earnestly  contend  for  the  faith  which  was  once  delivered 
unto  the  saints.' — Jude  3. 

Unfurl  the  Christian  Standard  !  lift  it  manfully  on  high, 
And  rally  where   its   shining  folds  wave  out  against  the 

sky! 
Away  with  weak  half-heartedness,  with  faithlessness  and 

fear  ! 
Unfurl  the  Christian  Standard,  and  follow  with  a  cheer  ! 

In  God's  own  name  we  set  it  up,  this  banner  brave  and 

bright, 
Uplifted  for  the  cause  of  Christ,  the  cause  of  Truth  and 

Right ; 
The  cause  that  none  can  overthrow,  the  cause  that  must 

prevail, 
Because  the  promise  of  the  Lord  can  never,  never  fail ! 

Now,  who  is  on  the  Lord's  side,  who  ?  come,  throng  His 

battle-field ; 
Be  strong,  and  show  that  ye  are  men  !  come  forth  with 

sword  and  shield  1 


520  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

What  peace,  while  traitorous  Evil  stalks  in  false  array  of 

light  ? 
What  peace,  while  enemies  of  Christ  are  gathering  for  the 

fight? 

Unfurl  the   Christian    Standard,  with   firm   and   fearless 

hands ! 
For  no  pale  flag  of  compromise  with  Error's  legion  bands. 
And  no  faint-hearted  flag  of  truce  with  Mischief  and  with 

Wrong, 
Should  lead  the  soldiers  of  the  Cross,  the  faithful  and  the 

strong. 

Unfurl  the  Christian  Standard,  and  follow   through  the 

strife 
The  noble  army  who  have  won  the  martyr's  crown  of  life ; 
Our  ancestors  could  die  for  Truth,  could  brave  the  deadly 

glow, 
And  shall  we  let  the  standard  fall,  and  yield  it  to  the  foe  ? 

But  if  ye  dare  not  hold  it  fast,  yours  only  is  the  loss, 
For  it  shall  be  victorious,  this  Standard  of  the  Cross  ! 
//  shall  not  suffer,  though  ye  rest  beneath  your  sheltering 

trees, 
And  cast  away  the  victor's  crown  for  love  of  timid  ease. 

The  Lord  of  Hosts,  in  whom  alone  our  weakness  shall  be 

strong. 
Shall  lead  us  on  to  conquest  with  a  mighty  battle  song ; 
And  soon  the  warfare  shall  be  past,  the  glorious  triumph 

won, 
The  kingdoms  of  this  world  shall  be  the  kingdoms  of  His 

Son ' 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  LITTLE  ONES.  521 


H  plea  for  tbe  Xtttle  ©nes. 

It  was  Easter  Monday  morning, 
A  dull  and  showery  day  ; 

We  were  sorry  for  the  children 
Who  could  not  run  and  play. 

I  heard  the  sound  of  singing 
x'Vs  I  passed  along  the  street— 

An  unseen  tiny  chorus 
Of  tiny  voices  sweet. 

Beneath  a  sheltering  doorway, 
Safe  from  the  April  weather 

Eight  happy  little  singers 
Sat  lovingly  together, 

Five  crowding  on  the  doorstep 
With  arms  entwined,  and  three 

On  broken  stool  or  baby  chair. 
Close  clustering  knee  to  knee. 

They  sang  about  the  '  happy  land,' 

So  very  '  far  away,' 
And  happier  faces  never  shone 

In  any  game  of  play. 

And  then  they  sang  it  all  again, 
And  gently  rocked  each  other; 

Then  said  the  little  leader, 
'  Now  let  us  sing  another  ! ' 


522  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

*  Now  /  will  say  a  hymn  to  you  ! ' 
(Oh,  the  sixteen  eyes  were  bright !) 

So  I  said  them  '  Little  Jessie,' 
As  they  listened  with  delight. 


Jessie's  Friend. 

'  Little  Jessie,  darling  pet, 

Do  you  want  a  Friend  ? 
One  who  never  will  forget, 

Loving  to  the  end  ? 
One  whom  you  can  tell,  when  sad, 

Everything  that  grieves, 
One  who  loves  to  make  you  glad. 

One  who  never  leaves  ? 


'  Such  a  loving  Friend  is  ours, 

Near  us  all  the  day, 
Helping  us  in  lesson-hours, 

Smiling  on  our  play ; 
Keeping  us  from  doing  wrong, 

Guarding  everywhere ; 
Listening  to  each  happy  song, 

And  each  little  prayer. 

'  Jessie,  if  you  only  knew 
What  He  is  to  me, 
Surely  you  would  love  Him  too, 
You  would  "  come  and  see." 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  LITTLE  ONES.  52^ 

Come,  and  you  will  find  it  true, 

Happy  you  will  be  ! 
Jesus  says,  and  says  to  you, 

"Come,  oh  come,  to  Me."' 


*  Now  tell  me  who,  if  you  can  guess, 

\Vas  httle  Jessie's  Friend  ? 
Who  is  the  Friend  that  loves  so  much, 
And  loveth  to  the  end  ? ' 

I  would  that  you  had  seen  the  smile 

On  every  sunny  face ; 
It  made  a  palace  of  delight 

Out  of  that  dismal  place. 

As,  reverently  yet  joyously, 
They  answered  without  fear, 

*  It's  Jesus  ! '     That  beloved  Name 

Had  never  seemed  more  dear. 

And  then  we  talked  awhile  of  Him-— 
They  knew  the  story  well ; 

His  holy  life.  His  precious  death, 
Those  rosy  lips  could  telL 

All  beautiful,  and  wonderful. 
And  sweet  and  true  it  seemed. 

Such  hold  no  fairy  tale  had  gained 
That  ever  fancy  dreamed. 


524  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


So,  to  be  good  and  kind  all  day 

These  little  children  tried, 
Because  they  knew  Jle  was  so  good, 

Because  Jfe  bled  and  died. 

Blest  knowledge !     Oh,  what  human  lore 
Can  be  compared  with  such ! 

*  Who  taught  you  this,  dear  little  ones  ? 
Where  did  you  learn  so  much  ? ' 

Again  the  bright  eyes  cheerily 
Looked  up  from  step  and  stool ; 

They  answered  (mark  the  answer  well !), 
*  We  learnt  it  all  at  school! ' 

At  school,  at  school !    And  shall  we  take 

The  Book  of  books  away  ! 
Withhold  it  from  the  little  ones  ? 

Leave  them  at  will  to  stray — 

Upon  dark  mountains,  helplessly, 

Without  the  guiding  light 
That  God  entrusts  to  us^  until 

They  perish  in  the  night  ? 

What  was  the  world  before  that  Book 
Went  forth  in  glorious  night  ? 

Availed  the  lore  of  Greece  and  Rome 
To  chase  its  Stygian  night  ? 

We  send  the  messengers  of  life 
To  many  a  distant  strand, 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  LITTLE  ONES.  $25 

And  shall  we  tie  the  tongues  that  teach 
The  poor  of  our  own  land  ? 

Shall  husks  and  chaff  be  freely  given, 

And  not  the  Bread  of  Life  ? 
And  shall  the  Word  of  Peace  become 

A  centre  of  mad  strife  ? 

Shall  those  who  name  the  Name  of  Christ 

His  own  great  gift  withhold  ? 
Our  Lamp,  our  Chart,  our  Sword,  our  Song, 

Our  Pearl,  our  most  fine  Gold ! 

Why  would  ye  have  '  no  Bible  taught '  ? 

Is  it  ioxfear?  or  shame? 
Out,  out  upon  such  coward  hearts, 

False  to  their  Master's  name  ! 

If  God  be  God,  if  truth  be  truth. 

If  Christian  men  be  men. 
Let  them  arise  and  fight  the  fight, 

Though  it  were  one  to  ten  ! 

With  battle-cry  of  valiant  faith, 

Let  Britain's  sons  arise, — 
*  Our  children  shall  be  taught  the  Word 

That  only  maketh  wise  ! ' 

So,  dauntlessly,  will  we  unfurl 

Our  banner  bright  and  broad, 
The  cause  of  His  dear  Word  of  Life, 

Our  cause,  the  Cause  of  God. 


526  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


xrell  It  ®ut 

'  Tell  it  out  among  the  heathen  that  the  Lord  Is  King.' — Ps,  xcvi.  lo. 
{Prayer-Book  Version.') 

Tell  it  out  among  the  heathen  that  the  Lord  is  King  ! 

Tell  it  out,  tell  it  out ! 
Tell  it  out  among  the  nations,  bid  them  shout  and  sing  \ 

Tell  it  out,  tell  it  out ! 
Tell  it  out  with  adoration,  that  He  shall  increase ; 
That  the  mighty  King  of  Glory  is  the  King  of  Peace. 
Tell  it  out  with  jubilation,  though  the  waves  may  roar, 
That  He  sitteth  on  the  water-floods,  our  King  for  ever- 
more ! 

Tell  it  out,  etc. 

Tell  it  out  among  the  nations  that  the  Saviour  reigns ! 

Tell  it  out,  tell  it  out ! 
Tell   it  out   among  the  heathen,   bid   them   burst   their 
chains ! 

Tell  it  out,  tell  it  out ! 
Tell  it  out  among  the  weeping  ones  that  Jesus  lives  ; 
Tell  it  out  among  the  weary  ones  what  rest  He  gives ; 
Tell  it  out  among  the  sinners  that  He  came  to  save ; 
Tell  it  out  among  the  dying  that  He  triumphed  o'er  the 
grave. 

Tell  it  out,  etc. 

Tell  it  out  among  the  heathen  Jesus  reigns  above ! 

Tell  it  out,  tell  it  out ! 
Tell  it  out  among  the  nations  that  His  name  is  Love  | 

Tell  it  out,  tell  it  out  1 


SISTERS,  527 


Tell  it  out  among  the  highways,  and  the  lanes  at  home ; 
Let  it  ring  across  the  mountains  and  the  ocean  foam  : 
Like  the  sound  of  many  waters  let  our  glad  shout  be, 
Till  it  echo  and  re-echo  from  the  islands  of  the  sea ! 
Tell  it  out,  etc. 


Ststers* 

Oh  !  for  a  fiery  scroll,  and  a  trumpet  of  thunder  might. 

To  startle  the  silken  dreams  of  English  women  at  ease, 
Circled  with  peace  and  joy,  and  dwelling  where  truth  and 
light 
Are  shining  fair  as  the  stars,  and  free  as  the  western 
breeze ! 

Oh  !  for  a  clarion  voice  to  reach  and  stir  their  nest. 
With  the  story  of  sisters'  woes  gathering  day  by  day 

Over  the  Indian  homes  (sepulchres  rather  than  rest), 
Till  they  rouse  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord,  and  roll  the 
stone  away. 

Sisters !    Scorn  not  the  name,  for  ye  cannot  alter  the 
fact! 
Deem  ye  the  darker  tint  of  the  glowing  South  shall  be 
Valid  excuse  above  for  the  Priest's  and  Levite's  act, 
If  ye  pass  on  the  other  side,  and  say  that  ye  did  not 
see? 

Sisters  !    Yea,  and  they  lie,  not  by  the  side  of  the  road. 
But  hidden  in  loathsome  caves,  in  crushed  and  quiver- 
ing throngs, 


528  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Down-trodden,  degraded,  and  dark,  beneath  the  invisible 
load 
Of  centuries,   echoing    groans,   black    with    inherited 
wrongs. 

Made  like  our  own  strange  selves,  with  memory,  mind, 
and  will ; 
Made  with  a  heart  to  love,  and  a  soul  to  live  for  ever  ! 
Sisters  I     Is  there  no  chord  vibrating  in  musical  thrill, 
At   the   fall   of  that   gentle'  word,   to   issue   in   bright 
endeavour  ? 

Sisters  !    Ye  who  have  known  the  Elder  Brother's  love, — 
Ye  who  have  sat  at  His  feet,  and  leant  on  His  gracious 
breast. 
Whose  hearts  are  glad  with  the  hope  of  His  own  blest 
home  above. 
Will  ye  not  seek  them  out,  and  lead  them  to  Him  for 
rest? 

Is  it  too  great  a  thing  ?     Will  not  one  rise  and  go. 

Laying  her  joys  aside,  as  the  Master  laid  them  down  ? 

Seeking  His  lone  and  lost  in  the  veiled  abodes  of  woe, 
Winning   His   Indian  gems  to   shine   in  His  glorious 
crown ! 


The  golden  gates  were  opening 
For  another  welcome  guest ; 

For  a  ransomed  heir  of  glory 
Was  entering  into  rest : 


AN  INDIAN  FLA  G.  529 

The  first  in  far  Umritsur 

Who  heard  the  joyful  sound, 
The  first  who  came  to  Jesus 

Within  its  gloomy  bound. 

The  wonderers  and  the  watchers 

Around  his  dying  bed, 
Saw  Christ's  own  fearless  witness 

Safe  through  the  valley  led. 

And  they  whose  faithful  sowing 

Had  not  been  all  in  vain, 
Knew  that  the  angels  waited 

Their  sheaf  of  ripened  grain. 

He  spoke  :  '  Throughout  the  city 

How  many  a  flag  is  raised 
Where  loveless  deities  are  owned, 

And  powerless  gods  are  praised  \ 

'  I  give  my  house  to  Jesus, 

That  it  may  always  be 
A  flag  for  Christ,  the  Son  of  God, 

Who  gave  Himself  for  me.' 

And  now  in  far  Umritsur 

That  flag  is  waving  bright, 
Amid  the  heathen  darkness, 

A  clear  and  shining  light. 

A  house  where  all  may  gather 
The  words  of  peace  to  hear, 

2  L 


530  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

And  seek  the  only  Saviour 
Without  restraint  or  fear ; 

Where  patient  toil  of  teaching, 
And  kindly  deeds  abound  : 

Where  holy  festivals  are  kept. 
And  holy  songs  resound. 

First  convert  of  Uraritsur, 
Well  hast  thou  led  the  way ; 

Now,  who  will  rise  and  follow  ? 
Who  dares  to  answer,  '  Nay '  t 

O  children  of  salvation ! 

O  dwellers  in  the  light ! 
Have  ye  no  '  flag  for  Jesus,' 

Far-waving,  fair,  and  bright  ? 

Will  ye  not  band  together, 
And,  working  hand  in  hand. 

Set  up  a  '  flag  for  Jesus,' 
In  that  wide  heathen  land? 

In  many  an  Indian  city. 
Oh,  let  a  standard  wave, 

Our  gift  of  love  and  honour, 
To  Him  who  came  to  save ; 

To  Him  beneath  whose  banner 
Of  wondrous  love  we  rest ; 

Our  Friend,  the  Friend  of  sinners, 
The  Greatest  and  the  Best. 


THE  LULL  OF  ETERNITY.  531 


Ube  %\\\\  of  Bternit^^i 

Many  a  voice  has  echoed  the  cry  for  '  a  lull  in  life,' 
Fainting  under  the  noontide,  fainting  under  the  strife. 
Is  it  the  wisest  longing  ?  is  it  the  truest  gain  ? 
Is  not  the  Master  withholding  possible  loss  and  pain  ? 

Perhaps  if  He  sent  the  lull,  we  might  fail  of  our  heart's 

desire  ! 
Swift  and  sharp  the  concussion  striking  out  living  fire. 
Mighty  and  long  the  friction  resulting  in  living  glow, 
Heat  that  is  force  of  the  spirit,  energy  fruitful  in  flow. 

What  if  the  blast  should  falter,  what  if  the  fire  be  stilled, 
What  if  the  molten  metal  cool  ere  the  mould  be  filled  ? 
What  if  the  hands  hang  down  when  a  work  is  almost 

done? 
What  if  the  sword  be  dropped  when  a  battle  is  almost 

won  ? 

Past  many  an  unseen  Maelstrom  the  strong  wind  drives 

the  skiff, 
When  a  lull  might  drift  it  onward  to  fatal  swirl  or  cliff. 
Faithful  the  guide  that  spurreth,  sternly  forbidding  repose. 
When  treacherous  slumber  lureth  to  pause  amid  Alpine 

snows. 

The  lull  of  Time  may  be  darkness,  falling  in  lonely  night, 
But  the  lull  of  Eternity  neareth,  rising  in  full  calm  light ; 

1  Sequel  to   '  A  Lull   in  Life.'      See    Tlie  Ministry  of  Song,  p.   199 
(Pocket  Edition). 


532  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


The  earthly  lull  may  be  silence,  desolate,  deep  and  cold, 
But  the  heavenly  lull  shall  be  music  sweeter  a  thousand- 
fold. 

Here,  it  is  'calling  apart,'  and  the  place  may  be  desert 

indeed. 
Leaving  and  losing  the  blessings  linked  with  our  busy  need ; 
There  ! — why  should  I  say  it  ?  hath  not  the  heart  leapt  up, 
Swift  and  glad,  to  the  contrast,  filling  the  full,  full  cup  ? 

Still  shall  the  key-word,  ringing,   echo   the  same   sweet 

'  Conie!^ 
'Come'  with  the  blessed  myriads  safe  in  the  Father's 

home; 
'  Come ' — for  the  work  is  over ;  '  come ' — for  the  feast  is 

spread ; 
'  Come ' — for  the  crown  of  glory  waits  for  the  weary  head. 

When  the  rest  of  faith  is  ended,  and  the  rest  in  hope  is 

past, 
The  rest  of  love  remaineth.  Sabbath  of  life  at  last. 
No  more  fleeting  hours,  hurrying  down  the  day, 
But  golden  stillness  of  glory,  never  to  pass  away. 

Time  with  its  pressure  of  moments,  mocking  us  as  they  fell 
With  relentless  beat  of  a  footstep,  hour  by  hour  the  knell 
Of  a  hope  or  an  aspiration,  then  shall  have  passed  away, 
Leaving  a  grand  calm  leisure,  leisure  of  endless  day. 

Leisure  that  cannot  be  dimmed  by  the  touch  of  time  or 

place, 
Finding  its  counterpart  measure  only  in  infinite  space ; 


THE  SOWERS.  533 


Full,  and  yet  ever  filling,  leisure  without  alloy, 
Eternity's  seal  on  the  limitless  charter  of  heavenly  joy. 

Leisure  to  fathom  the  fathomless,  leisure  to  seek  and  to 

know- 
Marvels  and  secrets  and  glories  eternity  only  can  show ; 
Leisure  of  holiest  gladness,  leisure  of  holiest  love, 
Leisure   to    drink   from  the    Fountain   of  infinite   peace 
above. 

Art  thou  patiently  toiling,  waiting  the  Master's  will, 

For  a  rest  that  never  seems  nearer,  a  hush  that  is  far  off 

still? 
Does  it  seem  that  the  noisy  city  never  will  let  thee  hear 
The  sound  of  His  gentle  footsteps  drawing,  it  may  be, 

near? 

Does  it  seem  that  the  blinding  dazzle  of  noonday  glare 

and  heat 
Is  a  fiery  veil  between  thy  heart  and  visions  high  and 

sweet  ? 
What  though  '  a  lull  in  life  '  may  never   be  made   for 

thee  ? 
Soon  shall  a  '  better  thing '  be  thine,  the  Lull  of  Eternity  ! 


"Cbe  Sowci's. 

In  the  morning  sow  thy  seed,  nor  stay  thy  hand  at  even- 
ing hour, 

Kever  asking  which  shall  prosper — both  may  yield  thee 
fruit  and  flower  : 


534  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Thou  shalt  reap  of  that  thou  sowest ;  though  thy  grain  be 

small  and  bare, 
God  shall  clothe  it  as  He  pleases,  for  the  harvest  full  and 

fair; 
Though  it  sink  in  turbid  waters,  hidden  from  thy  yearning 

sight, 
It  shall  spring  in  strength  and  beauty,  ripening  in  celestial 

light; 
Ever  springing,  ever  ripening ; — not  alone  in  earthly  soil, 
Not  alone  among  the  shadows,  where  the  weary  workers 

toil; 
Gracious,  first-fruits  there  may  meet  thee  of  the  reaping- 

time  begun ; 
But  upon  the  Hill  of  Zion,  'neath  the  Uncreated  Sun, 
First  the  fulness  of  the  blessing  shall  the  faithful  labourer 

see, 
Gathering  fruit  to  life  eternal,  harvest  of  Eternity. 

Let  us  watch  awhile  the  sowers,  let  us  mark  their  tiny 
grain. 

Scattered  oft  in  doubt  and  trembling,  sown  in  weakness  or 
in  pain  ; 

Then  let  Faith,  with  radiant  finger,  lift  the  veil  from  un- 
seen things, 

Where  the  golden  sheaves  are  bending  and  the  harvest 
anthem  rings. 


'Such  as  I  have  I  sow,  it  is  not  much,' 
Said  one  who  loved  the  Master  of  the  field ; 

'  Only  a  quiet  word,  a  gentle  touch 

Upon  the  hidden  harp-strings,  which'  may  yield 


THE  SOWERS.  535 


No  quick  response ;  I  tremble,  yet  I  speak 

For  Him  who  knows  the  heart,  so  loving,  yet  so  weak.' 

And  so  the  words  were  spoken,  soft  and  low, 
Or  traced  with  timid  pen ;  yet  oft  they  fell 

On  soil  prepared,  which  she  would  never  know 
Until  the  tender  blade  sprang  up,  to  tell 

That  not  in  vain  her  labour  had  been  spent ; 

Then  with  new  faith  and  hope  more  bravely  on  she  went. 

II. 

'  I  had  much  seed  to  sow,'  said  one ;  '  I  planned 
To  fill  broad  furrows,  and  to  watch  it  spring 

And  water  it  with  care.     But  now  the  hand 

Of  Him  to  whom  I  sought  great  sheaves  to  bring, 

Is  laid  upon  His  labourer,  and  I  wait, 

Weak,  helpless,  useless,  at  His  palace  gate. 

'  Now  I  have  nothing,  only  day  by  day 
Grace  to  sustain  me  till  the  day  is  done ; 

And  some  sweet  passing  glimpses  by  the  way 
Of  Him,  the  Altogether  Lovely  One ; 

And  some  strange  things  to  learn,  unlearnt  before. 

That  make  the  suffering  light,  if  it  but  teach  me  more* 

Yet,  from  the  hush  of  that  secluded  room. 

Forth  floated  winged  seeds  of  thought  and  prayer ; 

These,  reaching  many  a  desert  place  to  bloom, 
And  pleasant  fruit  an  hundred-fold  to  bear ; 

Those,  wafted  heavenward  with  song  and  sigh. 

To  fall  again  with  showers  of  blessing  from  on  high. 


536  CINDER  THE  SURFACE. 


III. 

'  What  can  I  sow  ? '  thought  one,  to  whom  God  gave 
Sweet  notes  and  skilful  fingers.     '  Can  my  song 

Be  cast  upon  the  waters,  as  they  lave 

My  feet  with  grateful  echo,  soft  and  long, 

Or  break  in  sunny  spray  of  fair  applaud  ? 

Shall  this  be  found  one  day  as  fruit  to  Thee,  my  God  ? ' 

He  sang,  and  all  were  hushed.     Oh,  sweeter  fall 
The  notes  that  pour  from  fervent  fount  of  love, 

Than  studied  flow  of  sweetest  madrigal ! 
He  sang  of  One  who  listened  from  above, 

He  cast  the  song  at  His  beloved  feet ; — 

Some    said,    '  How  strange ! '     And    others    felt,    '  How 
sweet ! ' 

IV. 

Another  stood,  with  basket  stored  indeed. 

And  powerful  hand  both  full  and  faithful  found. 

And  cast  God's  own  imperishable  seed 
Upon  the  darkly  heaving  waste  around : 

Yet  oft  in  weariness,  and  oft  in  woe. 

Did  that  good  sower  store,  and  then  go  forth  to  sow. 

The  tide  of  human  hearts  still  ebbed  and  flowed, 
Less  like  the  fruitful  flood  than  barren  sea ; 

He  saw  not  where  it  fell,  and  yet  he  sowed : 
'  Not  void  shall  it  return,'  said  God,  '  to  Me  ! ' 

The  precious  seed,  so  swiftly  borne  away, 

A  singing  reaper's  hand  shall  fill  with  sheaves  one  day. 


THE  SOWERS.  537 


V. 


Another  watched  the  sowers  longingly, 
•  I  cannot  sow  such  seed  as  they,'  he  said  ; 

•  No  shining  grain  of  thought  is  given  to  me, 
No  fiery  words  of  power  bravely  sped  : 

Will  others  give  me  of  their  bounteous  store? 

My  hand  may  scatter  that,  if  I  can  do  no  more.' 

So  by  the  wayside  he  went  forth  to  sow 

The  silent  seeds,  each  wrapped  in  fruitful  prayer, 

With  glad  humility  ;  content  to  know 

The  volume  lent,  the  leaflet  culled  with  care, 

The  message  placed  in  stranger  hands,  were  all 

Beneath  His  guiding  eye  who  notes  the  sparrow's  fall 


VI. 

An  opening  blossom,  bright  with  early  dew. 
Whose  rosy  hps  had  touched  the  Living  Spring 

Before  the  thirst  of  earth  was  felt ;  who  knew 
The  children's  Saviour,  and  the  children's  King, 

Said,  '  What  can  I  sow,  mother  ? '     '  Darling  boy, 

Show  all  how  glad  He  makes  you ;  scatter  love  and  joy  1 

That  sparkling  seed  he  took  in  his  small  hand, 

And  dropped  it  tenderly  beside  the  flow 
Of  sorrows  that  he  could  not  understand, 

And  cast  it  lovingly  upon  the  snow 
That  shrouded  aged  hearts,  and  joyously 
Upon  the  dancing  waves  of  playmates'  thoughtless  glee. 


538  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


VII. 


'  What  seed  have  I  to  sow  ? '  said  one.     '  I  He 
In  stilled  and  darkened  chamber,  lone  and  lov/ ; 

The  silent  days  and  silent  nights  pass  by 
In  monotone  of  dimness.     Could  I  throw 

Into  the  nearest  furrow  one  small  seed, 

It  would  be  life  again,  a  blessed  life  indeed  ! ' 

And  so  she  lay  through  lingering  month  and  year, 
No  word  for  Him  to  speak,  no  work  to  do ; 

Only  to  suffer  and  be  still,  and  hear 

That  yet  the  Golden  Gate  was  not  in  view  ; 

While  hands  of  love  and  skill,  this  charge  to  keep, 

Must  leave  the  whitening  plain,  where  others  now  would 
reap. 


Such  the  sowing  ;  what  the  reaping  ?     Many  a  full  and 

precious  ear 
Waved  and  ripened,  fair  and  early,  for  the  patient  sowers 

cheer. 
Not  without  some  gracious  witness,  of  God's  faithfulness 

and  love 
Toiled  they,  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the  harvest-home 

above ; 
Word,  and  prayer,  and  song,  and  leaflet,  found,  though 

after  many  days. 
Quickening  energy  and  courage,   brightening  hope  and 

wakening  praise. 


THE  SOWERS.  539 


Yet  how  many  a  seed  seemed  trodden  under  foot,  and  left 

to  die, 
Lost,  forgotten  by  the  sower,  never  traced  by  human  eye ; 
Many  a  worker  meekly  saying,  '  Lord,  how  thankful  will  I 

be. 
If  but  one  among  a  thousand  may  bring  forth  good  fruit 
to  Thee ! ' 


One  by  one,  no  longer 

Gently  bid  to  wait ; 
One  by  one,  they  entered 

Through  the  Golden  Gate. 


*o' 


One  by  one  they  fell  adoring 

At  the  Master's  feet, 
Heard  His  welcome,  deep  and  thrilling, 
'  Enter  thou ! '  each  full  heart  filling, 
All  its  need  for  ever  stilling — 

All  its  restless  beat. 

Then  the  gift,  the  free,  the  glorious, 
Life  with  Him,  eternal  life, — 

Erst  bestowed  amid  the  weeping, 

And  the  weary  vigil-keeping, 
And  the  bitter  strife, — 

Now  in  mighty  consummation, 
First  in  all  its  fulness  known, 

Dower  of  glory  all  transcendent, 

Everlasting  and  resplendent, 
Is  their  own  ! 


540  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


All  their  own,  through  Him  who  loved  them, 
And  redeemed  them  unto  God  1 

New  and  living  revelation 

Of  the  marvels  of  salvation, 

Wakes  new  depths  of  adoration, 
New  and  burning  laud. 

Now  they  see  their  gracious  Master, 

See  Him  face  to  face  ! 
Now  they  know  the  great  transition 
From  the  veiled  to  veil-less  vision, 

In  that  bright  and  blessed  place. 

What  a  change  has  passed  upon  them  i 
Made  like  Him,  the  Perfect  One, — 

Made  like  Him  whose  joy  they  enter, 

Him,  the  only  Crown  and  Centre 
Of  the  endless  bliss  begun. 


But  Eternity  is  long, 

And  its  joys  are  manifold  ! 
Though  the  service  of  its  song 

Never  falters  or  grows  cold, 
Though  the  billows  of  its  praise 

Never  die  upon  the  shore, 
Though  the  blessed  harpers  raise 

Alleluias  evermore, 
Though  the  eye  grows  never  dim 

Gazing  on  that  mighty  Sun, 
Ever  finding  all  in  Him, 

Every  joy  complete  in  one ; — • 


THE  SOWERS.  541 


Yet  The  Infinite  is  He, 

In  His  Wisdom  and  His  Might ; 
And  it  needs  eternity 

To  reveal  His  Love  and  Light 
To  the  finite  and  created  ! 

Archangelic  mind  and  heart 
Never  with  His  bliss  was  sated, 

Never  knew  the  thousandth  part 
Of  the  all-mysterious  rays 

Flowing  from  Essential  Light, 
Hiding  in  approachless  blaze 

God  Himself,  the  Infinite. 

Infinite  the  ocean-joy 

Opening  to  His  children's  view; 
Infinite  their  varied  treasure, 
Meted  not  by  mortal  measure — 
Holy  knowledge,  holy  pleasure, 
Through  Eternity's  great  leisure, 

Like  its  praises,  ever  new. 

So  the  blessed  sowers'  gladness 

In  the  free  and  royal  grace 
Should  be  crowned  with  added  glory, 
Woven  with  their  earthly  story, 
Linked  with  time  and  place. 

Glad  surprise  !  for  every  service 

Overflowing  their  reward  ! 
No  more  sowing,  no  more  weeping, 
Only  grand  and  glorious  reaping, 
All  the  blessing  of  their  Lord. 


542 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


I. 

She  who  timidly  had  scattered 

Trembling  line  or  whispered  word, 
Till  the  holy  work  grew  dearer, 
And  the  sacred  courage  clearer, 
Now  her  Master's  own  voice  heard. 

Calling  shining  throngs  around  her. 

All  her  own  fair  harvest  found  ; 
Then,  her  humble  name  confessing, 
With  His  radiant  smile  of  blessing, 
All  her  dower  of  gladness  crowned. 


II. 

*  Welcome  thou,  whose  heavenly  message 

Came  with  quickening  power  to  me ! 
O  most  welcome  to  the  portals 
Of  this  home  of  bright  immortals, 

I  have  waited  long  for  thee  ! ' 

*  Who  art  thou  ?     I  never  saw  thee 

In  my  pilgrimage  below,' 
Said  he,  marvelling.     '  I  will  show  thee,' 
Answered  he,  '  the  love  I  owe  thee, 
Full  and  fervent,  for  I  know  thee 

By  the  starlight  on  thy  brow. 

*  Words  that  issued  from  thy  chamber 

Turned  my  darkness  into  light ; 


THE  SOWERS.  543 


Guided  footsteps,  weak  and  weary, 
Through  the  desert  wild  and  dreary, 
Through  the  valley  of  the  night. 

•  Come  !  for  many  another  waits  thee ! 

All  unfolded  thou  shalt  see. 
Through  the  ecstatic  revelation 
Of  their  endless  exultation, 

What  our  God  hath  wrought  by  thee.' 

III. 

Hark  !  a  voice  all  joy-inspiring 

Peals  adown  the  golden  floor, 
Leading  on  a  white-robed  chorus, 
Sweet  as  flute,  and  yet  sonorous 

As  the  many  waters'  roar. 

He  who  sang  for  Jesus  heard  it ! 

'  'T  is  the  echo  of  thy  song  ! ' 
Said  the  leader,     '  As  we  listened, 
Cold  hearts  glowed  and  dim  eyes  glistened, 

And  we  learned  to  love  and  long — 

*  Till  the  longing  and  the  loving 

Soared  to  Him  of  whom  you  sang ; 
Till  our  Alleluia,  swelling, 
Through  the  glory  all-excelling, 

Up  the  jasper  arches  rang.' 

IV. 

'Mid  the  angel-constellations. 
Like  a  star  of  purest  flame, 


544  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Shining  with  exceeding  brightness, 
Robed  in  snowy-gHstering  whiteness, 
Now  a  singing  reaper  came ; 

Came  with  fulness  of  rejoicing 

That  beloved  smile  to  meet : 
'  Master,  lo,  I  come  with  singing, 
Myriad  sheaves  of  glory  bringing 

To  Thy  dear  and  blessbd  feet.' 

Followed  o'er  the  golden  crystal 

Glittering  hosts  with  crown  and  palm ; 
Joining  him  whose  voice  had  taught  thendj 
To  the  praise  of  Him  who  bought  them, 
In  a  new  and  rapturous  psalm. 


V. 

He  who  humbly  watched  the  sowers, 
Watched  the  reapers  of  the  Lord  ; 

Sharing  all  their  jubilation, 

Hailing  every  coronation, 

Gladdened  by  their  great  reward. 

*  Seed  of  others  long  I  scattered, 
Now  their  harvest  joy  is  mine, 

Kindling  holy  contemplation 

Into  glowing  adoration. 
Into  ecstasy  divine.' 

So  he  chanted.     But  the  Master 

Beckoned  through  the  shining  throng ; 


THE  SOWERS.  545 


While  the  praises  of  the  choir 
Rose  into  that  silence,  higher 
Than  the  highest  flight  of  song. 

Great  and  gracious  words  were  spoken 
Of  his  faithful  service  done, 

By  the  Voice  that  thrills  all  heaven ; 

And  mysterious  rule  was  given 
To  that  meek  and  marvelling  one. 

VI. 

Found  the  little  child  rich  harvest 

From  his  tiny  seed  of  love ; 
Little  footsteps  followed  surely 
In  the  footprints  marked  so  purely, 
Till  they  met  again  above. 

Aged  ones  and  feeble  mourners 

Felt  the  solace  of  his  smile ; 
Hastened  on  with  footsteps  lighter, 
Battled  on  with  courage  brighter. 
Through  the  lessening  '  httle  while," 

Till  they  too  had  joined  the  mansions 
Where  the  weary  are  at  rest. 

Could  that  little  one  forget  them  ? 

Oh,  how  joyously  he  met  them 
In  this  dear  home  safe  and  blest ! 

And  the  Saviour,  who  had  called  hin:, 
Smiled  upon  His  little  one  ; 
2  M 


546  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

On  his  brow,  so  fair  and  tender, 
Set  a  crown  of  heavenly  splendour, 
With  the  gracious  word,  '  Well  done  1  * 


VII. 

Yet  again  a  wondrous  anthem 
Rang  across  the  crystal  sea ; 
Harps  and  voices  all  harmonious. 
Nearer,  nearer,  sweet,  symphonious, 
Meet  for  heaven's  own  jubilee. 

One  by  one  the  singers  gathered, 
Ever  swelling  that  great  song, 
Till  a  mighty  chorus  thundered, 
Till  the  listening  seraphs  wondered, 
As  its  triumph  pealed  along. 

Onward  came  they  with  rejoicing, 

Bearing  one  upon  their  wings. 
With  their  waving  palms  victorious, 
To  the  presence-chamber  glorious 
Of  the  very  King  of  kings. 

And  a  whisper,  clear  and  thrilling, 
Fell  upon  her  ravished  ear — 

'  Lo,  thy  harvest  song  ascending ! 

Lo,  thy  golden  sheaves  are  bending 
Full  and  precious,  round  thee  here  I " 

*  Nay,'  she  said,  '  I  have  no  harvest, 
For  I  had  no  power  to  sow ; 


THE  SOWERS.  547 


Burdening  others,  daily  dying, 
Year  by  year  in  weakness  lying, 
Still  and  silent,  lone  and  low.' 

Then  a  flash  of  sudden  glory 

Lit  her  long  life-mystery  ; 
By  that  heavenly  intuition 
All  the  secret  of  her  mission 

Shone,  revealed  in  radiancy. 

And  she  knew  the  sweet  memorials 

Of  her  hidden  life  had  shed 
Glories  on  the  sufferer's  pillow, 
Calmness  on  the  darkling  billow, 
Peace  upon  the  dying  bed. 

Thousand,  thousand-fold  her  guerdon, 
Thousand,  thousand-fold  her  bliss  1 

While  His  cup  of  suffering  sharing, 

All  His  will  so  meekly  bearing, 

He  was  gloriously  preparing 
This  for  her,  and  her  for  this  ! 


He  that  gocth  forth  and  weepeth,  seed  of  grace  in  sorrow 

bringing, 
Laden  with  his  sheaves  of  glory,   doubtless  shall  return 

with  singing. 


Our  Blessings. 

'  Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who 
hath  blessed  us  with  all  spiritual  blessings  in  heavenly  places 
in  Christ.'— Eph.  i.  3. 


549 


E  VERLASTING  BLESSINGS.  5  5 1 


Everlastfno  ^Blessfngs. 

'  I  know  that  whatsoever  God  doeth,  it  shall  be  for  ever.' — 
EccLES.  iii.  14. 

Oh,  what  everlasting  blessings  God  outpoureth  on  His 

own ! 
Ours  by  promise  true  and  faithful,  spoken  from  the  eternal 

throne  3 
Ours  by  His  eternal  purpose  ere  the  universe  had  place ; 
Ours   by  everlasting   covenant,   ours    by  free   and   royal 

grace. 

With  salvation  everlasting  He  shall  save  us,  He  shall  bless 
With  the  largess  of  Messiah,  everlasting  righteousness  ; 
Ours  the  everlasting  mercy  all   His   wondrous   dealings 

prove ; 
Ours  His  everlasting  kindness,  fruit  of  everlasting  love. 

In  the  Lord  Jehovah  trusting,  everlasting  strength  have 

we; 
He  Himself  our  Sun,  our  Glory,  Everlasting  Light  shall 

be; 
Everlasting    life   is   ours,   purchased  by   The   Life    laid 

down ; 
And  our   heads,    oft  bowed  and  weary,  everlasting  joy 

shall  crown. 


552  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

We  shall  dwell  with  Christ  for  ever,  when  the  shadows 

flee  away, 
In  the  everlasting  glory  of  the  everlasting  day. 
Unto  Thee,  beloved  Saviour,  everlasting  thanks  belong, 
Everlasting  adoration,  everlasting  laud  and  song  1 


Bcceptet>. 


'Accepted  in  the  Beloved.' — Eph.  i.  6.     'Perfect  in  Christ  Jesus.'- 
COL.  i.  28.     '  Complete  in  Him.' — CoL.  ii.  lo. 


Accepted,  Perfect,  and  Complete, 
For  God's  inheritance  made  meet ! 
How  true,  how  glorious,  and  how  sweet 

In  the  Beloved — by  the  King 
Accepted,  though  not  anything 
But  forfeit  lives  had  we  to  bring. 

And  Perfect  in  Christ  Jesus  made, 
On  Him  our  great  trangressions  laid, 
We  in  His  righteousness  arrayed. 

Complete  in  Him,  our  glorious  Head, 
With  Jesus  raised  from  the  dead, 
And  by  His  mighty  Spirit  led  ! 

O  blessed  Lord,  is  this  for  me  ? 
Then  let  my  whole  life  henceforth  be 
One  Alleluia-song  to  Thee  ! 


FRESH  SPRINGS.  553 


jfresb  Sprinas* 

'  All  my  fresh  springs  shall  be  in  Thee.' — Ps.  Ixxxvii.  7. 
[Prayer-Book  Version.) 

Hear  the  Father's  ancient  promise  ! 

Listen,  thirsty,  weary  one  ! 
*  I  will  pour  My  Holy  Spirit 

On  Thy  chosen  seed,  O  Son.' 
Promise  to  the  Lord's  Anointed, 

Gift  of  God  to  Him  for  thee  1 
Now,  by  covenant  appointed, 

All  thy  springs  in  Him  shall  be. 

Springs  of  life  in  desert  places 

Shall  thy  God  unseal  for  thee ; 
Quickening  and  reviving  graces, 

Dew-like,  healing,  sweet  and  free. 
Springs  of  sweet  refreshment  flowing, 

When  thy  work  is  hard  or  long. 
Courage,  hope,  and  power  bestowing, 

Lightening  labour  with  a  song. 

Springs  of  peace,  when  conflict  heightens, 

Thine  uplifted  eye  shall  see  ; 
Peace  that  strengthens,  calms,  and  brightens, 

Peace  itself  a  victory. 
Springs  of  comfort,  strangely  springing, 

Through  the  bitter  wells  of  woe ; 
Founts  of  hidden  gladness,  bringing 

Joy  that  earth  can  ne'er  bestow. 


554  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Thine,  O  Christian,  is  this  treasure, 

To  Thy  risen  Head  assured  ! 
Thine  in  full  and  gracious  measure, 

Thine  by  covenant  secured  ! 
Now  arise  !  His  word  possessing, 

Claim  the  promise  of  the  Lord  ; 
Plead  through  Christ  for  showers  of  blessingj 

Till  the  Spirit  be  outpoured  ! 

^fattbt'ul  promises, 

(New  Year's  Hymn.) 
ISA.  xli.  10. 

Standing  at  the  portal 
Of  the  opening  year, 
Words  of  comfort  meet  us, 

Hushing  every  fear. 
Spoken  through  the  silence 

By  our  Father's  voice, 
Tender,  strong,  and  faithful, 
Making  us  rejoice. 

Onward,  then,  and  fear  not, 

Children  of  the  Day  ! 
For  His  word  shall  never, 
Never  pass  away ! 

I,  the  Lord,  am  with  thee, 

Be  thou  not  afraid  ! 
I  will  help  and  strengthen, 

Be  thou  not  dismayed  ! 
Yea,  I  will  uphold  thee 

With  My  own  Right  Hand ; 


FAITHFUL  PROMISES.  555 


Thou  art  called  and  chosen 
In  my  sight  to  stand. 

Onward,  then^  and  fear  not, 

Children  of  the  Day  ! 
For  His  word  shall  never, 
Never  pass  away ! 

For  the  year  before  us, 

Oh,  what  rich  suppUes  ! 
For  the  poor  and  needy 

Living  streams  shall  rise; 
For  the  sad  and  sinful 

Shall  His  grace  abound ; 
For  the  faint  and  feeble 
Perfect  strength  be  found. 
Onward,  then,  and  fear  notj 

Children  of  the  Day  ! 
For  His  word  shall  never, 
Never  pass  away ! 

He  will  never  fail  us. 

He  will  not  forsake ; 
His  eternal  covenant 

He  will  never  break  ! 
Resting  on  His  promise. 
What  have  we  to  fear  ? 
God  is  all-sufficient 
For  the  coming  year. 

Onward,  then,  and  fear  not^ 

Children  of  the  Day  ! 
For  His  word  shall  never, 
Never  pass  away  1 


556  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Ube  3faftbtul  Comforter. 

•The  Holy  Ghost— He  is  faithful,'— Heb.  ix.  15,  23. 

To  Thee,  O  Comforter  Divine, 
For  all  Thy  grace  and  power  benign, 
Sing  we  Alleluia ! 

To  Thee,  whose  faithful  love  had  place 
In  God's  great  Covenant  of  Grace, 
Sing  we  Alleluia ! 

To  Thee,  whose  faithful  voice  doth  win 
The  wandering  from  the  ways  of  sin. 
Sing  we  Alleluia ! 

To  Thee,  whose  faithful  power  doth  heal, 
Enlighten,  sanctify,  and  seal, 
Sing  we  Alleluia ! 

To  Thee,  whose  faithful  truth  is  shown. 
By  every  promise  made  our  own, 
Sing  we  Alleluia ! 

To  Thee,  our  Teacher  and  our  Friend, 
Our  faithful  Leader  to  the  end. 
Sing  we  Alleluia  ! 

To  7  hee,  by  Jesus  Christ  sent  down, 
Of  all  His  gifts  the  sum  and  crown, 
Sing  we  Alleluia  ! 

To  Thee,  who  art  with  God  the  Son 
And  God  the  Father  ever  One, 

Sing  we  Alleluia  !     Amen  ! 


UNDER  HIS  SHADOW.  557 

XDln&er  Ibis  Sbabow. 

(Communion  Hymn.) 
•  1  sat  do^v'n  under  His  shadow  with  great  delight.' — Cant,  ii.  3. 

Sit  down  beneath  His  shadow, 

And  rest  with  great  delight ; 
The  faith  that  now  beholds  Him 

Is  pledge  of  future  sight. 

Our  Master's  love  remember, 

Exceeding  great  and  free  ; 
Lift  up  thy  heart  in  gladness, 

For  He  remembers  thee. 

Bring  every  weary  burden, 

Thy  sin,  thy  fear,  thy  grief; 
He  calls  the  heavy  laden, 

And  gives  them  kmd  relief. 

His  righteousness  '  all  glorious 

Thy  festal  robe  shall  be ; 
And  love  that  passeth  knowledge 

His  banner  over  thee. 

A  little  while,  though  parted. 

Remember,  wait,  and  love, 
Until  He  comes  in  glory, 

Until  we  meet  above  \ 


SS8  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Till  in  the  Father's  kingdom 
The  heavenly  feast  is  spread, 

And  we  behold  His  beauty, 
Whose  blood  for  us  was  shed ! 


Go\)enant  Blessings. 

■  He  hath  made  with  me  an  everlasting  covenant,  ordered  in  all  things, 
and  sure." — 2  Sam,  xxiii.  5. 

Jehovah's  Covenant  shall  endure, 
All  ordered,  everlasting,  sure  ! 
O  child  of  God,  rejoice  to  trace 
Thy  portion  in  its  glorious  grace. 

'T  is  thine,  for  Christ  is  given  to  be 
The  Covenant  of  God  to  thee  : 
In  Him,  God's  golden  scroll  of  light, 
The  darkest  truths  are  clear  and  bright. 

O  sorrowing  sinner,  well  He  knew, 
Ere  time  began,  what  He  would  do ! 
Then  rest  thy  hope  within  the  veil ; 
His  covenant  mercies  shall  not  fail. 

O  doubting  one,  the  Eternal  Three 
Are  pledged  in  faithfulness  for  thee ; 
Claim  every  promise,  sweet  and  sure, 
By  covenant  oath  of  God  secure. 

O  waiting  one,  each  moment's  fall 
Is  marked  by  love  that  planned  them  all ; 
Thy  times,  all  ordered  by  His  hand, 
In  God's  eternal  covenant  stand. 


THE  TRIUNE  PRESENCE.  559 

O  feeble  one,  look  up  and  see 
Strong  consolation  sworn  for  thee ; 
Jehovah's  glorious  arm  is  shown, 
His  covenant  strength  is  all  thine  own. 

O  mourning  one,  each  stroke  of  love 
A  covenant  blessing  yet  shall  prove ; 
His  covenant  love  shall  be  thy  stay ; 
His  covenant  grace  be  as  thy  day. 

O  Love  that  chose,  O  Love  that  died, 
O  Love  that  sealed  and  sanctified  ! 
All  glory,  glory,  glory  be, 
O  covenant  Triune  God,  to  Thee  ! 


'^\iz  XTdune  jpresence, 

(birthday  or  new  year's  hymn.) 
'Certainly  I  \vill  be  with  thee.' — Ex.  iii.  12. 

•  Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee  !     Father,  I  have  found  it 

true : 
To  Thy  faithfulness  and  mercy  I  would  set  my  seal  anew. 
All  the  year  Thy  grace  hath  kept   me,  Thou  my  help 

indeed  hast  been. 
Marvellous  the  loving-kindness  every  day  and  hour  hath 

seen. 

'  Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee  ! '     Let  me  feel  it.  Saviour 

dear, 
Let  me  know  that  Thou  art  with  me,  very  precious,  very 

near. 


56o  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


On  this  day  of  solemn  pausing,  with  Thyself  all  longing 

still, 
Let  Thy  pardon,  let  Thy  presence,  let  Thy  peace   my 

spirit  fill. 

'  Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee ! '     Blessed  Spirit,  come  to 

me, 
Rest  upon  me,  dwell  within  me,  let  my  heart  Thy  temple 

be ; 
Through  the  trackless  year  before  me.  Holy  One,  with  me 

abide  ! 
Teach  me,  comfort  me,  and  calm  me,  be  my  ever-present 

Guide. 

'Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee!'     Starry  promise  in  the 

night ! 
All  uncertainties,  like  shadows,  flee  away  before  its  light. 
'  Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee  ! '     He  hath  spoken  :  I  have 

heard ! 

True  of  old,  and  true  this  moment,  I  will  trust  Jehovah's 
word. 


Now  AND  AfIERWARD. 

'Nevertheless  afterward.' — Heb.  xii.  il. 

'And  afterward  receive  me  to  glory.' — Ps.  Ixxiii.  24. 


2  W 


I 


1 


NOW  AND  AFTER WA RD.  563 


IRow  anC)  BftecwarD, 

Now,  the  sowing  and  the  weeping, 
Working  hard  and  waiting  long ; 

Afterward,  the  golden  reaping, 
Harvest  home  and  grateful  song. 

Now,  the  pruning,  sharp,  unsparing ; 

Scattered  blossom,  bleeding  shoot ! 
Afterward,  the  plenteous  bearing 

Of  the  Master's  pleasant  fruit. 

Now,  the  plunge,  the  briny  burden, 
Blind,  faint  gropings  in  the  sea ; 

Afterward,  the  pearly  guerdon 
That  shall  make  the  diver  free. 

Now,  the  long  and  toilsome  duty 
Stone  by  stone  to  carve  and  bring  j 

Afterward,  the  perfect  beauty 
Of  the  palace  of  the  King. 

Now,  the  tuning  and  the  tension, 
Wailing  minors,  discord  strong; 

Afterward,  the  grand  ascension 
Of  the  Alleluia  song. 


564  UNDER  7 HE  SURFACE. 

Now,  the  spirit  conflict-riven, 
Wounded  heart,  unequal  strife ; 

Afterward,  the  triumph  given. 
And  the  victor's  crown  of  life. 

Now,  the  training,  strange  and  lowly, 
Unexplained  and  tedious  now ; 

Afterward,  the  service  holy. 

And  the  Master's  '  Enter  thou ! ' 


'  Tempted  and  tried  ! ' 
Oh  !  the  terrible  tide 

May  be  raging  and  deep,  may  be  wrathful  and  wide 
Yet  its  fury  is  vain, 
For  the  Lord  shall  restrain ; 

And  for  ever  and  ever  Jehovah  shall  reign. 

*  Tempted  and  tried  !' 

There  is  One  at  thy  side. 
And  never  in  vain  shall  His  children  confide  1 

He  shall  save  and  defend, 

For  He  loves  to  the  end, 
Adorable  Master  and  glorious  Friend  ! 

'  Tempted  and  tried  ! ' 

Whate'er  may  betide, 
In  His  secret  pavilion  His  children  shall  hide  ! 

'Neath  the  shadowing  wing 

Of  Eternity's  King 
His  children  shall  trust  and  His  servants  shall  sing. 


NOT  FORSAKEN.  565 


'  Tempted  and  tried  ! ' 
Yet  the  Lord  shall  abide 

Thy  faithful  Redeemer,  thy  Keeper  and  Guide, 
Thy  Shield  and  thy  Sword, 
Thine  exceeding  Reward ! 

Then  enough  for  the  servant  to  be  as  his  Lord  1 

'  Tempted  and  tried  ! ' 

The  Saviour  who  died 
Hath  called  thee  to  suffer  and  reign  by  His  side. 

His  cross  thou  shalt  bear, 

And  His  crown  thou  shalt  wear, 
And  for  ever  and  ever  His  glory  shalt  share. 


IRot  3forsal?eiu 

(Answer  to  an  extremely  beautiful  but  utterly  melancholy  sonnet, 
entitled  'Forsaken.') 

Oh,  not  forsaken  !     God  gives  better  things 
Than  thou  hast  asked  in  thy  forlornest  hour. 
Love's  promises  shall  be  fulfilled  in  power. 

Not  death,  but  life ;  not  silence,  but  the  strings 

Of  angel-harps ;  no  deep,  cold  sea,  but  springs 
Of  living  water;  no  dim,  wearied  sight, 
Nor  time-  nor  tear-mist,  but  the  joy  of  light; 

Not  sleep,  but  rest  that  happy  service  brings ; 

And  no  forgotten  name  thy  lot  shall  be 

But  God's  remembrance.     Thou  canst  never  drift 

Beyond  His  love.    Would  I  could  reach  thee  where 
The  shadows  droop  so  heavily,  and  lift 

The  cold  weight  from  thy  life  ! — And  if  I  care 

For  one  unknown,  oh,  how  much  more  doth  He  ! 


566  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Xistenino  \\\  H)arftness— Speafting  in  Xiobt 

'  What  I  tell  you  in  darkness,  that  speak  ye  in  light.'— Matt.  x.  27. 

He  hath  spoken  in  the  darkness, 

In  the  silence  of  the  night, 
Spoken  sweetly  of  the  Father, 

Words  of  life  and  love  and  light. 
Floating  through  the  sombre  stillness 

Came  the  loved  and  loving  Voice, 
Speaking  peace  and  solemn  gladness. 

That  His  children  might  rejoice. 
What  He  tells  thee  in  the  darkness, 

Songs  He  giveth  in  the  night — 
Rise  and  speak  it  in  the  morning, 

Rise  and  sing  them  in  the  light  I 

He  hath  spoken  in  the  darkness, 

In  the  silence  of  thy  grief, 
Sympathy  so  deep  and  tender, 

Mighty  for  thy  heart  relief ; 
Speaking  in  thy  night  of  sorrow 

Words  of  comfort  and  of  calm. 
Gently  on  thy  wounded  spirit 

Pouring  true  and  healing  balm. 
What  He  tells  thee  in  the  darkness, 

Weary  watcher  for  the  day. 
Grateful  lip  and  life  should  utter 

When  the  shadows  flee  away. 

He  is  speaking  in  the  darkness. 

Though  thou  canst  not  see  His  face, 


E  VENING  TEARS  AND  MORNING  SONGS.        567 


More  than  angels  ever  needed, 

Mercy,  pardon,  love,  and  grace. 
Speaking  of  the  many  mansions, 

Where,  in  safe  and  holy  rest, 
Thou  shalt  be  with  Him  for  ever, 

Perfectly  and  always  blest 
What  He  tells  thee  in  the  darkness, 

Whispers  through  Time's  lonely  night, 
Thou  shalt  speak  in  glorious  praises, 

In  the  everlasting  light ! 


Bvening  Uears  anC)  /iBorninci  Sottas. 

Weeping  may  endure  in  the  evening,  but  singing  cometh  in  the  morning.' 
— Ps.  XXX.  5  (Margin). 

In  the  evening  there  is  weeping. 
Lengthening  shadows,  failing  sight  j 

Silent  darkness  slowly  creeping 
Over  all  things  dear  and  bright. 

In  the  evening  there  is  weeping. 
Lasting  all  the  twilight  through ; 

Phantom  shadows,  never  sleeping, 
Wakening  slumbers  of  the  true. 


In  the  morning  cometh  singing, 
Cometh  joy  and  cometh  sigiit, 

When  the  sun  ariseth,  bringing 
Healing  on  his  wings  of  light. 


568  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

In  the  morning  cometh  singing, 
Songs  that  ne'er  in  silence  end, 

Angel  minstrels  ever  bringing 
Praises  new  with  thine  to  blend. 

Are  the  twilight  shadows  casting 
Heavy  glooms  upon  thy  heart  ? 

Soon  in  radiance  everlasting 
Night  for  ever  shall  depart 


Art  thou  weeping,  sad  and  lonely, 
Through  the  evening  of  thy  days  ? 

All  thy  sighing  shall  be  only 
Prelude  of  more  perfect  praise, 


i 


1 


Darkest  hour  is  nearest  dawning. 

Solemn  herald  of  the  day ;  J 

Singing  cometh  in  the  morning, 

^od  shall  wipe  thy  tears  away  ! 


{peaceable  jfruft. 


Nevertheless,  afterward  it  yieldeth  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness,' 

— Heb.  xii.  II. 


What  shall  Thine  '  afterward '  be,  O  Lord, 
For  this  dark  and  suffering  night  ? 

Father,  what  shall  Thine  '  afterward '  be  ? 

Hast  Thou  a  morning  of  joy  for  me. 
And  a  ne\y  and  joyous  light  ? 


RIGHT!  569 

What  shall  Thine  '  afterward '  be,  O  Lord, 

For  the  moan  that  I  cannot  stay  ? 
Shall  it  issue  in  some  new  song  of  praise, 
Sweeter  than  sorrowless  heart  could  raise, 
When  the  night  hath  passed  away  ? 

What  shall  Thine  '  afterward '  be,  O  Lord, 

For  this  helplessness  of  pain  ? 
A  clearer  view  of  my  home  above, 
Of  my  Father's  strength  and  my  Father's  love? 

Shall  this  be  my  lasting  gain  ? 

What  shall  Thine  '  afterward  '  be,  O  Lord  ? 

How  long  must  Thy  child  endure  ? 
Thou  knowest !     'T  is  well  that  I  know  it  not ! 
Thine  'afterward'  cometh,  I  cannot  tell  what. 

But  I  know  that  Thy  word  is  sure. 

What  shall  Thine  '  afterward  '  be,  O  Lord  ? 

I  wonder  and  wait  to  see, 
(While  to  Thy  chastening  hand  I  bow,) 
What  '  peaceable  fruit '  may  be  ripening  now. 

Ripening  fast  for  me  ! 


IRigbtl 

SCENE   r. 

The  summer  sun  was  high  and  strong, 
And  dust  was  on  the  traveller's  feet ; 

Oh,  weary  was  the  stage  and  long. 
And  burning  was  the  early  heat ! 


570  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


There  was  a  pause.     For  Ernest  stood 
Upon  the  borders  of  a  wood. 
Between  him  and  his  home  it  lay, 
Stretching  in  mystery  away  : 
What  might  be  there  he  could  not  tell 
Of  briery  steep,  or  mossy  dell, 
Of  bog  or  brake,  of  glen  or  glade, 
All  hidden  by  the  dim  green  shade. 

He  had  not  passed  that  way  before, 

And  wonderingly  he  waited  now,  4 

While  mystic  voices,  o'er  and  o'er. 

Soft  whispered  on  from  bough  to  bough. 
Oh,  was  it  only  wind  and  trees 

That  made  such  gentle  whisperings? 
Or  was  it  some  sweet  spirit  breeze 

That  bore  a  message  on  its  wings, 
And  bid  the  traveller  that  day 
Go  forward  on  his  woodland  way  ? 


How  should  he  know  ?     He  had  no  clue, 

And  more  than  one  fair  opening  lay 
Before  him,  where  the  broad  boughs  threw 

Cool,  restful  shade  across  the  way. 
Which  should  he  choose  ?     He  could  not  trace 

The  onward  track  by  vision  keen ; 
The  drooping  branches  interlace. 

Not  far  the  winding  paths  are  seen. 
Oh  for  a  sign  !     Were  choice  not  right, 

Was  no  return,  for  well  he  knew 
The  hours  were  short,  and  swift  the  night; 

Once  entered,  he  must  hasten  through. 


I 

1 


RIGHT'.  571 


For  what  hath  been  can  never  be 

As  if  it  had  not  been  at  all ; 
We  gaze,  but  never  more  can  we 

Retrace  one  footstep's  wavering  fall. 
Oh,  how  we  need  from  day  to  day 
A  guiding  Hand  for  all  the  way  ! 
Oh,  how  we  need  from  hour  to  hour 
That  faithful,  ever-present  Power  ! 

Which  should  he  choose  ?     He  pondered  long, 
And  with  the  sounds  of  bird  and  bee 

He  blent  an  oft-repeated  song, 
A  soft  and  suppliant  melody : 

'  Oh  for  a  light  from  heaven, 

Clear  and  divine, 
Now  on  the  paths  before  me 

Brightly  to  shine ! 
Oh  for  a  hand  to  beckon  ! 

Oh  for  a  voice  to  say, 
"  Follow  in  firm  assurance — 

This  is  the  way  !  " 

''  Listening  to  mingling  voices, 

Seeking  a  guiding  hand, 
Watching  for  light  from  heaven, 

Waiting  I  stand; 
Onward  and  homeward  pressing, 

Nothing  my  feet  should  stay. 
Might  I  but  plainly  hear  it, — 

"  This  is  the  way  1 " ' 


572  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Was  it  indeed  an  answer  given, 

That  whisper  through  the  tree-tops  o'er  him  ? 
Was  it  indeed  a  hght  from  heaven 

That  fell  upon  the  path  before  him  r 
Or  was  it  only  that  he  met 

The  wayward  playing  of  the  breeze, 
Parting  the  heavy  boughs  to  let 

The  sunshine  fall  among  the  trees? 
Again  he  listened — did  it  say, 
*  This  is  the  onward,  homeward  way  ? ' 
Perhaps  it  did.     He  would  not  wait, 
But  pressing  towards  a  Mansion  Gate 
That,  yet  unseen,  all  surely  stood 
Beyond  the  untried,  unknown  wood, 
And  trusting  that  his  prayer  was  heard, 
Although  he  caught  no  answering  word, 
And  gazing  on  with  calm,  clear  eye 
The  straightest,  surest  path  to  spy 
(Not  seeking  out  the  smooth  and  bright. 
If  he  might  only  choose  the  right), 
With  hopeful  heart  and  manly  tread. 
Into  the  forest  depths  he  sped. 


SCENE   II. 

Hours  flit  on,   and  the   sunshine   fails  in  the  zenith  of  i 

day; 
Hours  flit  on,  and  the  loud  wind  crashes  and  moans  o'er  j 

the  ridge ; 
Heavily  beateth  the  strong  rain,  lashing  the  miry  clay. 
Hoarsely  roareth  the  torrent  under  the  quivering  bridge. 


RIGHT  1  573 

Under  the  shivering  pine-trees,  over  the  sUppery  stone, 
Over  the  rugged  boulder,  over  the  cold  wet  weed, 

Ernest  the  traveller  passeth,  storm-beaten,  weary  and  lone, 
Only  following  faintly  whither  the  path  may  lead. 

Leading  down  to  the  valleys,  dank  in  the  shadow  of  death, 
Leading  on  through  the  briers,  poisonous,  keen,  and  sore ; 

Leading  up  to  the  grim  rocks,  mounted  with  panting  breath, 
Only  to  gain  a  gUmpse  of  sterner  toil  before. 

Faint  and  wounded  and  bleeding,  hungry,  thirsty,  and  chill, 
Hardly  a  step  before  him  seen  through  the  tangled  brake. 
Rougher  and  wilder  the  storm-blast,  steeper  the  thorn- 
grown  hill, 
Brave  heart  and  bright  eye  and  strong  limb,  well  may 
they  quiver  and  ache  \ 

Was  it  indeed  the  right  way  ?     Was  it  a  God-led  choice, 
Followed  in  faith  and  patience,  and  chosen  not  for  ease  ? 

Was  it  a  false,  false  gleam,  and  a  mocking,  mocking  voice 
That  fell  on  the  woodland   pathway,  and   murmured 
amonnr  the  trees  ? 


'O 


Oh  the  dire  mistake  !  fatal  freedom  to  choose ! 

Had  he  but  taken  a  fair  path,  sheltered,  level,  and  straight, 
Never  a  thorn  to  wound  him,  never  a  stone  to  bruise. 

Leading  safely  and  softly  on  to  the  Mansion  Gate  ! 

Was  it  the  wail  of  a  wind-harp,  cadencing  weird  and  long, 
Pulsing  under  the  pine-trees,  dying  to  wake  again  ? 

Is  it  the  voice  of  a  brave  heart  striving  to  utter  in  song 
Agony,  prayer,  and  reliance,  courage  and  wonder  and 
pain? 


574  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


'  Onward  and  homeward  ever, 

Battling  with  darlc  distress, 
Faltering,  but  yielding  never, 

Still  shall  my  faint  feet  press. 
Why  was  no  beckoning  hand 

Sent  in  my  doubt  and  need? 
Why  did  no  true  guide  stand 

Guiding  me  right  indeed  ? 
Why  f    They  will  tell  me  all 

When  I  have  reached  the  gate, 
Where,  in  the  shining  hall, 

Many  my  coming  wait 

'  Oh  the  terrible  night. 

Falling  without  a  star  ! 
Darkness  anear,  but  light — 

Glorious  hght  afar ! 
Oh  the  perilous  way  ! 

Oh  the  pitiless  blast ! 
Long  though  I  suffer  and  stray, 

There  will  be  rest  at  last 
Perhaps  I  have  far  to  go, 

Perhaps  but  a  little  way  ! 
Well  that  I  do  not  know  ! 

Onward  !  I  must  not  stay. 

'  Splinter  and  thorn  and  brier 
Yet  may  be  sore  and  keen ; 

Rocks  may  be  rougher  and  higher, 
Hollows  more  chill  between. 

There  may  be  torrents  to  cross, 
Bridgeless,  and  fierce  with  foam ; 


RIGHT!  575 


Rest  in  the  wild  wood  were  loss, 

There  will  be  rest  at  home. 
Battling  with  dark  distress, 

Faltering,  but  yielding  never, 
Still  shall  my  faint  feet  press 

Onward  and  homeward  ever  ! ' 

Pulsing  under  the  pine-trees,  dying,  dying, — and  gone, — 
Gone  that  ^olian  cadence,  silent  the  firm  refrain ; 

Only  the  howl  of  the  storm-wind  rages  cruelly  on  : 
Has  the  traveller  fallen,  vanquished  by  toil  and  pain  ? 


SCENE   III. 

Morning,    morning   on   the    mountains,    golden-vestured, 

snowy-browed  ! 
Morning  light  of  clear  resplendence,  shining  forth  without 

a  cloud ; 
Morning  songs  of  jubilation,  thrilling  through  the  .crystal 

air; 
Morning  joy  upon  all  faces,  new  and  radiant,  pure  and 

fair. 

At  the  portals  of  the  mansion,  Ernest  stands  and  gazes 

back. 
There  is  light  upon  the  river,  light  upon  the  forest  track  ; 
Light  upon  the  darkest  valley,  light  upon  the  sternest 

height ; 
Light    upon    the    brake    and    bramble,    everywhere   that 

glorious  light  1 


576  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Strong  and  joyous  stands  the   traveller,  in  the  morning 

glory  now, 
Not  a  shade  upon  the  brightness  of  the  cool  and  peaceful 

brow; 
Not  a  trace  of  weary  faintness,  not  a  touch  of  lingering 

pain, 
Not  a  scar  to  wake  the  memory  of  the  suffering  hours 

again. 

Onward  by  the  winding  pathway,  many  another  journeyed 

fast, 
Hastening  to  the  princely  mansion  by  the  way  that  he  had 

passed ; 
Spared  the  doubting  and  the  erring  by  those   footsteps 

bravely  placed 
In   the   clogging   mire,    or   trampling   on   the   wounding 

bramble-waste. 

Some  had  followed  close  behind  him,  pressing  to  the  self- 
same mark. 

Cheered  and  guided  by  the  refrain  of  that  singer  in  the 
dark; 

Some  were  near  him  in  the  tempest,  while  he  thought 
himself  alone, 

And  regained  a  long-lost  pathway,  following  that  beckon- 
ing tone. 

Some  who  patiently,  yet    feebly,    sought   to   reach   that 

mansion  too, 
Caught  the  unseen  singer's  courage,  battled  on  with  vigour 

new: 


RIGHT!  577 


Some,  exhausted  in  the  struggle,  sunk  in  slumber  chill  and 

deep, 
Started  at  that  strange  voice  near  them,  rousing  from  their 

fatal  sleep. 

Now  they  meet  and  gather  round  him,  and  together  enter 
in, 

Where  the  rest  is  consummated  and  the  joys  of  home 
begin, 

Where  the  tempest  cannot  reach  them,  where  the  wander- 
ings are  past, 

Where  the  sorrows  of  the  journey  not  a  single  shadow 
cast. 

Singing    once   in   dismal   forest,    singing   once   in   cruel 

storm, 
Singing  now  at  home  in  gladness  in  the  sunshine  bright 

and  warm, 
Once  again  the  voice  resoundeth,  pouring  forth  a  happy 

song, 
While  a  chorus  of  rejoicing  swells  the  sweet  notes  full  and 

long: 

Light  after  darkness, 

Gain  after  loss, 
Strength  after  suffering. 

Crown  after  cross. 
Sweet  after  bitter, 

Song  after  sigh, 
Home  after  wandering, 

Praise  after  cry. 
2  o 


578  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

*  Sheaves  after  sowing, 

Sun  after  rain, 
Sight  after  mystery. 

Peace  after  pain. 
Joy  after  sorrow, 

Calm  after  blast, 
Rest  after  weariness, 

Sweet  rest  at  last. 

•  Near  after  distant, 

Gleam  after  gloom, 
Love  after  loneliness, 

Life  after  tomb. 
After  long  agony, 

Rapture  of  bliss ! 
Right  was  the  pathway 

Leading  to  this ! ' 


XTbe  Co!  be  3Balm. 

Sunshine  and  silence  on  the  Col  de  Balm  ! 
I  stood  above  the  mists,  above  the  rush 
Of  all  the  torrents,  when  one  marvellous  hush 
Filled  God's  great  mountain  temple,  vast  and  calm, 
With  hallelujah  light,  a  seen  though  silent  psalm ; — 

Crossed  with  one  discord,  only  one.     For  Love 
Cried  out,  and  would  be  heard  :  '  If  ye  were  here, 
O  friends,  so  far  away  and  yet  so  near, 
Then  were  the  anthem  perfect ! '     And  the  cry 
Threaded  the  concords  of  that  Alpine  harmony. 


>   : 


'EYE  HATH  NOT  SEEN.'  579 

Not  vain  the  same  fond  cry,  if  first  I  stand 
Upon  the  mountain  of  our  God,  and  long, 
Even  in  the  glory,  and  with  His  new  song 
Upon  my  lips,  that  you  should  come  and  share 
The  bliss  of  heaven,  imperfect  still  till  all  are  there. 

Dear  ones !  shall  it  be  mine  to  watch  you  come 
Up  from  the  shadows  and  the  valley  mist, 
To  tread  the  jacinth  and  the  amethyst. 
To  rest  and  sing  upon  the  stormless  height. 
In  the  deep  calm  of  love  and  everlasting  light  ? 


*Bi5e  batb  not  Seen.' 

*  You  never  write  of  heaven. 

Though  you  write  of  heavenly  themes  ; 
You  never  paint  the  glory 

But  in  reflected  gleams  ! ' 
My  pencil  only  pictures 

What  I  have  known  and  seen  : 
How  can  I  tell  the  joys  that  dwell 

Where  I  have  never  been  ? 

I  sing  the  songs  of  Zion, 

But  I  would  never  dare 
To  imitate  the  chorus. 

Like  many  waters,  there. 
1  sketch  the  sunny  landscape. 

But  can  I  paint  the  sun? 
Can  that  by  art,  which  human  heart 

Conceiveth  not,  be  won  ? 


5 So  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

The  Laplander,  that  never 

Hath  left  his  flowerless  snows, 
Might  make  another  realize 

The  fragrance  of  the  rose  : 
The  blind  might  teach  his  brother 

Each  subtle  tint  to  know, 
Of  lovely  lights  and  summer  sights. 

Of  shadow  and  of  glow. 

To  whom  all  sound  is  silence, 

The  dumb  man  might  impart 
The  spirit-winging  marvels 

Of  Handel's  sacred  art. 
But  never,  sister,  never 

Was  told  by  mortal  breath 
What  they  behold,  o'er  whom  hath  rolled 

The  one  dark  wave  of  death. 

Yet  angel-echoes  reach  us. 

Borne  on  from  star  to  star,  . 

And  ghmpses  of  our  purchased  home, 

Not  always  faint  and  far. 
No  harp  seraphic  brings  them. 

No  poet's  glowing  word, 
By  One  alone  revealed  and  known — 

The  Spirit  of  the  Lord. 

Have  we  not  bent  in  sadness 

Before  the  mercy-seat. 
And  longed  with  speechless  longing 

To  kiss  the  Master's  feet  ? 


«  E  YE  HA  TH  NOT  SEEN.'  581 


And  though  for  precious  ointment 

We  had  but  tears  to  bring, 
We  let  them  flow,  and  could  not  go 

Till  we  had  seen  our  King. 

Then  came  a  flash  of  seeing 

How  every  cloud  should  pass, 
And  vision  should  be  perfect, 

Undimmed  by  darkling  glass. 
The  glory  that  excelleth 

Shone  out  with  sudden  ray, 
We  seemed  to  stand  so  near  '  the  land' 

No  longer  '  far  away,' — 

The  glisten  of  the  white  robe, 

The  waving  of  the  palm, 
The  ended  sin  and  sorrow, 

The  sweet  eternal  calm, 
The  holy  adoration 

That  perfect  love  shall  bring. 
And,  face  to  face,  in  glorious  grace, 

The  beauty  of  the  King  ! 

Oh,  this  is  more  than  poem, 

And  more  than  the  highest  song; 
A  witness  with  our  spirit, 

Though  hidden,  full  and  strong. 
*T  is  no  new  revelation 

Vouchsafed  to  saint  or  sage, 
But  light  from  God  cast  bright  and  broad 

Upon  the  sacred  page. 


582  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Our  fairest  dream  can  never 

Outshine  that  holy  light, 
Our  noblest  thought  can  never  soar 

Beyond  that  word  of  might. 
Our  whole  anticipation, 

Our  Master's  best  reward, 
Our  crown  of  bliss,  is  summed  in  this- 

*  For  ever  with  the  Lord  1 ' 


'? 


The  Church  of  Christ. 

'  Whom  He  did  predestinate,  them  He  also  called ;  and  whom 
He  called,  them  He  also  justified  ;  and  whom  He  justified, 
them  He  also  glorified. ' — Rom.  viii.  30. 


I.  Chosen.  IV.  Sanctified. 

n.  Called.  V.  Joined  to  Christ. 

III.  Justified.  VI.  Presented  Faultless, 

VII.  Glorified, 


osa 


CHOSEN  IN  CHRIST.  585 


Cbosen  \\k  Cbrfst 

•  He  hath  chosen  us  in  Him  before  the  foundation  of  the  world.' 

— Eph.  i.  4. 

0  THOU  chosen  Church  of  Jesus,  glorious,  blesst;d,  and 

secure, 
Founded  on  the  One  Foundation,  which   for  ever  sliall 

endure ; 
Not  thy  holiness  or  beauty  can  thy  strength  and  safety  be, 
But  the  everlasting  love  wherewith  Jehovah  lovbd  thee. 

Chosen — by  His  own  good  pleasure,  by  the  counsel  of 

His  will, 
Mystery  of  power  and  wisdom  working  for  His  people 

still; 
Chosen — in  thy  mighty  Saviour,  ere  one  ray  of  quickening 

light 
Beamed  upon  the  chaos,  waiting  for  the  Word  of  sovereign 

might. 

Chosen — through  the  Holy  Spirit,  through  the  sanctifying 

grace 
Poured   upon    His   precious   vessels,    meetened    for    the 

heavenly  place ; 


586  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Chosen — to  show  forth  His  praises,  to  be  holy  in  His 

sight ; 
Chosen — unto  grace  and  glory,  chosen  unto  life  and  light. 

Blessbd  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our   Saviour   Jesus 

Christ, 
Who  hath  blessed  us  with  such  blessings  all  uncounted 

and  unpriced ! 
Let  our  high  and  holy  caUing,  and  our  strong  salvation  be, 
Theme  of  never-ending  praises,  God  of  sovereign  grace, 

to  Thee  ! 

n. 

Callet). 

'  Partakers  of  the  heavenly  calling,' — Heb.  iii.  i. 

Holy  brethren,  called  and  chosen  by  the  sovereign  Voice 

of  Might, 
See  your  high  and  holy  calling  out  of  darkness  into  light ! 
Called  according  to  His  purpose  and  the  riches  of  His 

love; 
Won  to  listen  by  the  leading  of  the  gentle  heavenly  Dove  ! 

Called  to  suffer  with  our  Master,  patiently  to  run  His  race  ; 
Called  a  blessing  to  inherit,  called  to  holiness  and  grace ; 
Called  to  fellowship  with  Jesus,  by  the  Ever-Faithful  One ; 
Called  to  His  eternal  glory,  to  the  kingdom  of  His  Son. 

Whom  He  calleth  He  preserveth,  and  His  glory  they  shall 

see; 
He  is  faithful  that  hath  called  you, — He  will  do  it,  fear 

not  ye ! 


JUSTIFIED.  587 

Therefore,  holy  brethren,   onward!    thus   ye   make   your 

calling  sure ; 
For  the  prize  of  this  high  calling,  bravely  to  the   end 

endure. 

IIL 

Justified. 

'  This  is  the  name  wherewith  she  shall  be  called,  The  Lord  our 
Righteousness.' — Jer.  xxxiii.  16. 

Israel  of  God,  awaken !  Church  of  Christ,  arise  and  shine 

Mourning  garb  and  soiled  raiment  henceforth  be  no 
longer  thine ! 

For  the  Lord  thy  God  hath  clothed  thee  with  a  new  and 
glorious  dress, 

With  the  garments  of  salvation,  with  the  robe  of  righteous- 
ness. 

By  the  grace  of  God  the  Father,  thou  art  freely  justified, 
Through  the  great  redemption  purchased  by  the  blood  of 

Him  who  died ; 
By  His  life,  for  thee  fulfilling  God's  command  exceeding 

broad. 
By  His  glorious  resurrection,  seal  and  signet  of  thy  God. 

Therefore,  justified  for  ever  by  the  faith  which  He  hath 

given, 
Peace,   and  joy,  and  hope  abounding,  smooth  thy  trial 

path  to  heaven  : 
Unto  Him  betrothed  for  ever,  who  thy  life  shall  crown 

and  bless, 
By  His  name  thou  shalt  be  called,  Christ,  '  The  Lord  our 

Righteousness ! ' 


SS8  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

IV. 

Sanctifieb. 

'Sanctified  in  Christ  Jesus.' — i  COR.  i.  2. 

Church  of  God,  beloved  and  chosen,  Church  of  Christ, 

for  whom  He  died, 
Claim  thy  gifts  and  praise  thy  Giver ! — *  Ye  are  washed  and 

sanctified.'' 
Sanctified  by  God  the  Father,  and  by  Jesus  Christ  His  Son, 
And  by  God  the  Holy  Spirit,  Holy,  Holy  Three  in  One. 

By  His  will  He  sanctifieth,  by  the  Spirit's  power  within ; 
By  the  loving  Hand  that  chasteneth  fruits  of  righteousness 

to  win ; 
By  His  truth  and  by  His  promise,  by  the  Word,  His  gift 

unpriced, 
By  His  own  blood,  and  by  union  with  the  risen  life  of 

Christ. 

Holiness  by  faith  in  Jesus,  not  by  effort  of  thine  own, — 
Sin's  dominion  crushed  and  broken  by  the  power  of  grace 

alone, — 
God's  own  holiness  within  thee.  His  own  beauty  on  thy 

brow, — 
This   shall   be   thy  pilgrim   brightness,   this   thy  blessed 

portion  now. 

He  will  sanctify  thee  wholly ;  body,  spirit,  soul  shall  be 
Blameless  till  thy  Saviour's  coming  in  His  glorious  majesty ! 
He  hath  perfected  for  ever  those  whom  He  hath  sanctified ; 
Spotless,  glorious,  and  holy  is  the  Church,  His  chosen 
Bride. 


JOINED  TO  CHRIST.  589 


V. 

5ofne&  to  Cbrist 

'  Head  over  all  things  to  the  Church,  which  is  His  body.*- 
Eph.  i.  22,  23, 

Joined  to  Christ  in  mystic  union, 
We  Thy  members,  Thou  our  Head, 

Sealed  by  deep  and  true  communion, 
Risen  with  Thee,  who  once  were  dead — 

Saviour,  we  would  humbly  claim 

All  the  power  of  this  Thy  name. 

Instant  sympathy  to  brighten 
All  their  weakness  and  their  woe, 

Guiding  grace  their  way  to  lighten, 
Shall  Thy  loving  members  know ; 

All  their  sorrows  Thou  dost  bear, 

All  Thy  gladness  they  shall  share. 

Make  Thy  members  every  hour 
For  Thy  blessbd  service  meet ; 

Earnest  tongues,  and  arms  of  power, 
Skilful  hands,  and  hastening  feet, 

Ever  ready  to  fulfil 

All  Thy  word  and  all  Thy  will 

Everlasting  life  Thou  givest, 

Everlasting  love  to  see ; 
They  shall  live  because  Thou  livest. 

And  their  life  is  hid  with  Thee. 
Safe  Thy  members  shall  be  found, 
When  their  glorious  Head  is  crowned  1 


590  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


VI. 

presentet)  ^faultless, 

'  Behold  I  and  the  children  which  God  hath  given  Me.' 
— Heb.  ii,  13. 

Our  Saviour  and  our  King, 
Enthroned  and  crowned  above, 
Shall  with  exceeding  gladness  bring 
The  children  of  His  love. 

All  that  the  Father  gave 
His  glory  shall  behold ; 
Not  one  whom  Jesus  came  to  save 
Is  missing  from  His  fold. 

He  shall  confess  His  own 
From  every  clime  and  coast, 
Before  His  Father's  glorious  throne, 
Before  the  angel  host. 

'  O  righteous  Father,  see, 
In  spotless  robes  arrayed, 
Thy  chosen  gifts  of  love  to  Me, 
Before  the  worlds  were  made. 

*  By  new  creation  Thine ; 
By  purpose  and  by  grace, 
By  right  of  full  redemption  Mine, 
Faultless  before  Thy  face. 


GLORIFIED.  591 


'  As  Thou  hast  lov^d  Me, 
So  hast  Thou  lovfed  them  ; 
Thy  precious  jewels  they  shall  be, 
My  glorious  diadem ! ' 


VII. 


6lotifieD. 

The  God  of  all  grace,  who  hath  called  you  unto  His  eternal  glory  by 
Christ  Jesus,  ...  to  Him  be  glory.'— i  Pet.  v.  10,  11. 

Sovereign  Lord  and  gracious  Master, 

Thou  didst  freely  choose  Thine  own. 
Thou  hast  called  with  mighty  calling, 
Thou  wilt  save,  and  keep  from  falling ; 
Thine  the  glory,  Thine  alone  ! 

Yet  Thy  hand  shall  crown  in  heaven 
All  the  grace  Thy  love  hath  given ; 
Just,  though  undeserved,  reward 
From  our  glorious,  gracious  Lord. 

From  the  martyr  and  apostle 

To  the  sainted  baby  boy, 
Every  consecrated  chalice 
In  the  King  of  Glory's  palace 
Overflows  with  holy  joy. 

Sovereign  choice  of  gift  and  dower, 
Differing  honour,  differing  power, — 
Yet  are  all  aUke  in  this, 
Perfect  love  and  perfect  bliss. 


592 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


In  those  heavenly  constellations, 

Lo !  what  differing  glories  meet ; 
Stars  of  radiance  soft  and  tender, 
Stars  of  full  and  dazzling  splendour, 
All  in  God's  own  light  complete  ; 
Brightest  they  whose  holy  feet, 
Faithful  to  His  service  sweet, 
Nearest  to  their  Master  trod, 
Winning  wandering  souls  to  God. 

Oh  the  rapture  of  that  vision  ! 
(Every  earthly  passion  o'er), 
Our  Redeemer's  coronation, 
And  the  bHssful  exaltation 
Of  the  dear  ones  gone  before. 

Grace  that  shone  for  Christ  below 
Changed  to  glory  we  shall  knov/  j 
And  before  His  unveiled  /ace 
Sing  the  glory  of  His  grace. 


Lights  and  Shadows  ofSpring-timb. 


2  9 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  AN  ^OLIAN  HARP.  595 


tTbe  /iDessage  ot  an  Beolfan  1barp^ 

'  Good-bye,  my  mother ! ' 
The  brown-haired  boy,  with  merry  reverence. 
Turned  from  the  window  where  she  leant,  to  meet 
His  hoHday  companions,  bhthely  bound. 
With  bat  and  ball  for  healthy  English  sport. 
She  watched  his  lithesome  form,  so  slight  yet  strong. 
Till,  passing  from  the  gate,  he  waved  his  cap 
And  vanished.     Then  she  sighed. 

Beside  her  sat 
A  friend  of  years.     A  different  portrait  each 
Who  knew  her  would  have  drawn,  for  different  traits 
Shone  out  in  turns  as  sympathetic  gleams 
Fell  on  them  or  flashed  out.     And  few  could  tell 
The  colour  of  her  eyes,  or  grey  or  brown, 
Because  the  hue  was  lost  in  light  or  shade ; 
Nor  if  her  mouth  were  large  or  small,  because 
The  play  of  thought  made  visible  was  there. 
Like  shifting  rainbows  on  white  foam.     Her  hair 
Was  dark,  and  she  was  rather  tall :  and  this 
Was  all  in  which  most  people  would  agree. 

Not  always  sigh  for  sigh  or  smile  for  smile 
She  gave ;  for  now  and  then  fine  tact  of  heart 
Suggests  an  opposite  as  best  response, 
Completing  by  contrasting,  like  a  scarlet  flower 


596  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

With  soft  green  leaves.     So  with  her  rippling  voice, 
Like  waters  that  now  murmur  low,  now  leap 
In  spray-like  laughter,  Beatrice  replied 
To  Eleanor's  slow  sigh  : 

'  When  he  comes  home, 
How  full  of  cricket  stories  he  will  be  ! 
'T  is  most  amusing  when  he  gives  accounts, 
Sparkling  with  boyish  wit,  yet  earnestly, 
As  if  an  empire  hung  upon  the  match : 
Only  one  needs  a  glossary  of  terms  ! 
How  well  he  knows  the  interest  with  which 
You  hear  !     I  mark,  he  intersperses  all 
With  rough  pet  names,  shy  veils  of  tenderness 
For  his  dear  mother.     Eleanor,  I  think 
Your  Hubert  has  not  merely  head  and  hand, 
As  all  his  comrades  know,  but  true  heart  too, 
As  you  alone  know  fully.     Well  for  him 
That  he  has  such  a  heart  to  meet  his  own, 
And  well  for  you ;  for  't  is  a  blessed  gift. 
Not  shared  by  all  alike — the  power  to  love ; 
And  not  less  blessed  for  proportioned  pain, 
Its  fiery  seal,  its  royal  crown  of  thorns.' 

'  So  seems  it,  Beatrice,  to  you,  who  find 
No  lurking  danger  in  its  concentration. 
Because  you  have  so  many  near  and  dear. 
Not  so  to  me.     I  tremble  when  I  think 
How  much  I  love  him  ;  but  I  turn  away 
From  thinking  of  it,  just  to  love  him  morej — 
Indeed,  I  fear,  too  much.' 

*  Dear  Eleanor, 
Do  you  love  him  as  much  as  Christ  loves  us  ? 
Let  your  lips  answer  me.' 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  AN  ^OLIAN  HARP.  597 

'  Why  ask  me,  dear  ? 
Our  hearts  are  finite,  Christ  is  infinite.' 

'  Then,  till  you  reach  the  standard  of  that  love, 
Let  neither  fears  nor  well-meant  warning  voice 
Distress  you  with  "  too  much."     For  He  hath  said — 
How  much — and  who  shall  dare  to  change  His  measure  ? — • 
"  That  ye  should  love  as  I  have  loved  you." 
Oh,  sweet  command,  that  goes  so  far  beyond 
The  mightiest  impulse  of  the  tenderest  heart ! 
A  bare  permission  had  been  much ;  but  He, 
Who  knows  our  yearnings  and  our  fearfulness, 
Chose  graciously  to  bid  us  do  the  thing 
That  makes  our  earthly  happiness,  and  set 
A  limit  that  we  need  not  fear  to  pass. 
Because  we  cannot.     Oh  the  breadth,  and  length. 
And  depth,  and  height  of  love  that  passeth  knowledge ! 
Yet  Jesus  said,  "  AS  I  have  loved  you." ' 

'  O  Beatrice,  I  long  to  feel  the  sunshine 
That  this  should  bring ;  but  there  are  other  words 
Which  fall  in  chill  eclipse.     'T  is  written,  "  Keep 
Yourselves  from  idols."     How  shall  I  obey  ? ' 

*  Dear,  not  by  loving  less,  but  loving  more. 
It  is  not  that  we  love  our  precious  ones 
Too  much,  but  God  too  little.     As  the  lamp 
A  miner  bears  upon  his  shadowed  brow, 
Is  only  dazzling  in  the  grimy  dark 
And  has  no  glare  against  the  summer  sky 
So,  set  the  tiny  torch  of  our  best  love 
In  the  great  sunshine  of  the  Love  of  God, 
And,  though  full  fed  and  fanned,  it  casts  no  shade 
And  dazzles  not,  o'erfiowed  with  mightier  light.' 

She  watched  in  hope  to  see  the  pale  lips  curve 


598  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


More  peacefully  in  answer  to  her  words. 
But  Eleanor's  quick  spirit  bridged  too  soon 
The  gap  between  one  ridge  of  anxious  thought 
And  that  beyond,  to  see  the  glen  between, 
Where  pastures  green  and  waters  still  were  spread. 
So,  answering  not  her  friend's  thought,  but  her  own, 
She  said,  '  'T  is  but  half  true  that  love  is  power, 
'Tis  sometimes  weakness.' 

*  Nay  !     You  have  not  found 
It  thus  at  all.     See  how  the  bold  bright  boy, 
AVilful  and  wayward  else,  will  follow  prompt 
The  magnet  of  your  wish,  with  sudden  swerve 
From  his  own  bent  or  fancy.' 

'  That  is  true, 
And  oh,  so  sweet'  to  me  !     But  by  the  power 
I  gauge  the  weakness.     Beatrice,  your  heart 
Has  ached  with  longing  for  some  stranger  soul 
That  it  might  flee  from  danger  to  the  One, 
The  Only  Refuge ;  you  have  felt  keen  pain 
In  calling  those  who  will  not  come  to  Him 
Who  waits  to  give  them  life ;  but  I,  /  strive  ^ 

For  one  far  more  than  all  the  world  to  me, — 
My  boy,  my  only  one,  and  fatherless. 
Just  entering  the  labyrinth  of  life 
Without  its  only  clue,  with  nothing  but 
My  feeble  hand  to  shield  from  powers  of  ill. 

'  His  mind  is  opening  fast,  and  I  have  tried 
To  show  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge 
Of  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord;  he  listens  well. 
To  please  his  mother,  whom  he  would  not  grieve  \ 
But  never  pulse  of  interest  I  feel. 
And  echoless  the  name  of  Jesus  falls, 


i 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  AN  MOLIAN  HARP.  599 


While  classic  heroes  stir  him  with  delight. 

My  boy,  my  only  one  !     I  taught  him  words, 

When  years  ago  his  tiny  feet  peeped  out 

From  the  white  nightgown  in  the  nursery  hush ; 

And  folding  firm  the  busy  little  hands, 

He  lisped  "Our  Father."     But  words  are  Xio'i prayer. 

I  put  the  lamp  of  life  in  his  small  hand, 

Filling  his  memory  with  shining  truths 

And  starry  promises.     He  learnt  them  all 

For  love  of  me,  just  as  he  would  have  learnt 

Some  uncouth  string  of  barbarous  names, 

Had  I  so  wished  :  no  more.     They  are  no  light 

To  him,  no  strength,  no  joy.     O  Beatrice, 

'T  is  this  that  presses  on  my  weary  heart, 

And  makes  it  more  than  widowed.     For  I  know 

That  he  who  is  not  lost,  but  gone  before. 

Is  only  waiting  till  I  come  ;  for  death 

Has  only  parted  us  a  little  while. 

And  has  not  severed  e'en  the  finest  strand 

In  the  eternal  cable  of  our  love : 

The  very  strain  has  twined  it  closer  still. 

And  added  strength.     The  music  of  his  life 

Is  nowise  stilled,  but  blended  so  with  songs 

Around  the  throne  of  God,  that  our  poor  ears 

No  longer  hear  it.     Hubert's  life  is  mute 

As  yet ;  and  what  if  all  my  tuning  fail ! ' 

And  Eleanor  looked  up  among  the  clouds 
With  weary,  wistful  eyes,  while  Beatrice 
Sent  a  far-passing  glance  beyond  them  all, 
Beyond  the  sunshine  too. 

A  sudden  smile 
Rose  from  within  and  overflowed  her  lips 


6oo  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

And  made  them  beautiful.     Poor  Eleanor 
Deemed  it  the  herald  of  some  happy  thought,- 
Some  message,  it  might  be,  from  God  to  her, 
Wrapped  in  the  simple  words  of  friend  to  friend. 
We  do  not  always  know  it  when  we  have 
The  privilege  to  be  God's  messengers. 
Nor  who  shall  be  His  messengers  to  us. 
Unconsciously  a  pale  responsive  smile 
Gleamed  out  to  welcome  it,  and  hardly  waned 
As  unexpected  change  of  subject  came.  • 

'  I  did  not  tell  you,  did  I,  of  my  gift. 
My  beautiful  ^olian  harp  ? ' 

'  Oh  no ! 
I  was  too  full  of  mine,  my  boy,  and  you 
Too  full  of  ready  sympathy  with  me.' 

'  Nay,  do  not  say  "  too  full,"  that  could  not  bey 
Yours  is  so  great  a  gift,  so  great  a  care ! 
I  shall  not  tire  of  thinking  with  you  thus, 
Until  I  do  not  love  you,  which  means  never. 
But  as  we  turn  from  gazing  on  the  sea 
To  lift  admiringly  a  tiny  shell. 
So  you  shall  turn  from  your  great  interest 
To  hear  of  my  ^olian  treasure  now. 
Say,  have  you  ever  seen  one .? ' 

'  Never,  dear ; 
But  visible,  and  almost  audible, 
Your  words  shall  make  it.' 

*  There 's  not  much  to  see  : 
Two  plain  smooth  boards,  one  thick,  one  very  thin,- 
With  seven  tensioned  strings  upon  the  under, 
Just  covered  by  the  upper,  and  a  space 
That  you  might  lay  a  fmger  in  between. 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  AN  MOLIAN  HARP.  60 1 

Yet  one  can  almost  reverence  the  thing 
For  very  marvel  at  its  spirit  tones 
And  mysteries  of  music,  that  we  love 
But  cannot  understand.' 

'  But  tell  me  more, 
Dear  Beatrice  :  what  is  its  music  like  ? 
Whence  comes  it  ?  and  what  does  it  say  to  you  ? ' 

'  'T  is  easier  to  answer  what  and  whence 
Than  your  third  question,  for  not  twice 
I  hear  the  sarfie  soul-message  from  its  strings. 
But  I  will  tell  you  of  the  first  it  brought ; 
Your  heart  will  follow  mine,  and  trace  the  under-thought. 


*  A  friend,  a  kind,  dear  friend 
Gave  me  this  harp,  that  should  be  all  my  own, 
That  it  might  speak  to  me  in  twilight  lone 

When  other  sounds  were  fled ;  that  it  might  send 
Sweet  messages  of  calming,  cheering  might. 
Sweet  sudden  thrills  of  strange  and  exquisite  delight. 


II. 


*  Upon  the  strings  I  laid  my  hand. 
And  all  were  tuned  in  unison ;  one  tone 
Was  yielded  by  the  seven,  one  alone, 

In  quick  obedience  to  my  touch-command. 
It  could  not  be  that  this  was  all  he  meant 
Of  promised  music,  when  my  little  harp  was  sent. 


6o2  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


III. 

*  To  win  the  tones  I  found  the  way 
In  his  own  letter,  mine  before  the  gift : 
"  You  cannot  wake  its  music  till  you  lift 

The  closed  sash.     Take  up  and  gently  lay 
Your  harp  where  it  may  meet  the  freshening  air, 
Then  wait  and  listen."     This  I  did,  and  left  it  there. 

IV, 

'  I  waited  till  the  sun  had  set, 
And  twilight  fell  upon  the  autumn  sea ; 
I  watched,  and  saw  the  north  wind  touch  a  tree, 

Dark  outhned  on  the  paling  gold,  and  yet 
My  harp  was  mute.     I  cried,  "  Awake,  O  north  ! 
Come  to  my  harp,  and  call  its  answering  music  forth." 

V. 

'  Like  stars  that  tremble  into  light 
Out  of  the  purple  dark,  a  low,  sweet  note 
Just  trembled  out  of  silence,  antidote 

To  any  doubt ;  for  never  finger  might 
Produce  that  note,  so  different,  so  new : 
INIelodious  pledge  that  all  he  promised  should  come  true. 

VI. 

'  It  seemed  to  die  ;  but  who  could  say 
Whether  or  when  it  passed  the  border-line 
'Twixt  sound  and  silence  ?  for  no  ear  so  fine 
That  it  can  trace  the  subtle  shades  away ; 
Like  prism-rays  prolonged  beyond  our  ken, 
Like  memories  that  fade,  we  know  not  how  or  when. 


THE  MESSAGE  OF  AN  ^OLIAN  HARP.  i^:^-^ 


VII. 
'  Then  strange  vibrations  rose  and  fell, 
Like  far  sea-murmurs  blending  in  a  dream 
With  madrigals,  whose  fairy  singers  seem 

Now  near,  now  distant ;  and  a  curfew  bell, 
Whose  proper  tone  in  one  air-filling  crowd 
Of  strong  harmonics  hides,  as  in  a  dazzling  cloud, 

VIII, 

'  Then  delicately  twining  falls 
Of  silvery  chords,  that  quiver  with  sweet  pain. 
And  melt  in  tremulous  minors,  mount  again, 

Brightening  to  fullest  concords,  calm  recalls. 
And  measured  pulsings,  soft  and  sweet  and  slow, 
Which  emphasizing  touch  love's  quiet  under-glow. 

IX. 

'  A  silence.     Then  a  solemn  wail. 
Swelling  far  up  among  the  harmonies. 
And  shattering  the  crystal  melodies 

To  fleeting  fragments  glisteringly  pale, 
Yet  only  to  combine  them  all  anew 
By  resolutions  strange,  yet  always  sweet  and  true. 


'  Anon  a  thrill  of  all  the  strings  ; 
And  then  a  flash  of  music,  swift  and  bright. 
Like  a  first  throb  of  weird  Auroral  light ; 

Then  crimson  coruscations  from  the  wings 
Of  the  Pole-Spirit ;  then  ecstatic  beat. 
As  if  an  angel-host  went  forth  on  shining  feet. 


6o4  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


XI. 

'  Soon  passed  the  sounding  starlit  march, 
And  then  one  swelling  note  grew  full  and  long, 
While,  like  a  far-oif  old  cathedral  song, 

Through  dreamy  length  of  echoing  aisle  and  arch, 
Float  softest  harmonies  around,  above, 
Like  flowing  chordal  robes  of  blessing  and  of  love. 

XII. 

*  Thus,  while  the  holy  stars  did  shine 
And  listen,  these  -^olian  marvels  breathed  ; 
While  love  and  peace  and  gratitude  enwreathed 

With  rich  delight  in  one  fair  crown  were  mine. 
The  wind  that  bloweth  where  it  listeth  brought 
This  glory  of  harp-music, — not  my  skill  or  thought.' 

She  ceased.     Then  Eleanor  looked  up, 
And  said,  '  O  Beatrice,  I  too  have  tried 
My  finger-skill  in  vain.     But  opening  now 
My  window,  like  wise  Daniel,  I  will  set 
My  little  harp  therein,  and  listening  wait 
The  breath  of  heaven,  the  Spirit  of  our  God.' 


ifiSab^'s  Uucn. 

Tiny  feet  so  busy  in  a  tiny  patter  out  of  sight, 

Little  hands  escaping  from  protecting  doily  white, 

One   in  lifted  eagerness,  and  one  that  grasps  the  baby 

chair, — 
All  impatient !     Baby  darling,  must  not  sister  have  a  share  ? 


BABY'S  TUHN.  605 


Only  just  a  moment,  dearie ;  coming,  coming  !  don't  be 

vexed  ! 
Only  just  a  moment,  darling;  then  we'll  see  whose  turn 

is  next ! 
Ah,  she  knows  as  well  as  we  do  !     Baby's  turn  is  come  at 

last; 
Now  the  little  mouth  may  open ;  gently,  gently,  not  too  fast. 

Baby's  turn !     To-day  't  is  only  for  the  fruit  so  nice  and 

sweet, 
But  a  far-away  to-morrow  hastens  on  with  silent  feet ; 
When  the  yesterdays  of  life  are  clearest  in  our  dimming 

gaze, 
Baby's  vision  will  be  filled  with  brightly  realized  to-days. 

Baby's  turn  for  fair  unfolding  in  the  sunny  girlhood  time, 
For  the  blossom  and  the  breezes,  for  the  carol  and  the 

chime ; 
Baby's  turn  to  wear  the  crown  of  womanhood  upon  her 

brow, 
Heavier  but  nobler  than  the  fairy  gold  which  glitters  now. 

Baby's  turn  to  care  for  others,  and  to  kiss  away  the  tear. 
For  the  joy  of  ministration  to  the  suffering  or  the  dear. 
For  the  happiness  of  giving  help  and  comfort,  love  and 

life. 
Whether  walking  all  alone,  or  as  a  blessed  and  blessing 

wife. 

Baby's  turn  for  this  and  more,   if  God  should  give  her 

lengtli  of  days  ; — 
For  the  calmness  of  experience  and  the  retrospect  of  praise, 


6o6  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

For  the  silver  trace  of  sorrows  glistening  in  the  sunset  ray, 
For  the  evening  stillness  falling  on  the  turmoil  of  the  day. 

What  though  Baby's  turn  may  come  for  bitter  griefs  and 

wearing  fears  ! 
Love  shall  lighten  every  trial, — love  that  prays  and  love 

that  hears. 
See !  she  watches  and  she  wonders  till  the  reverie  is  o'er ; 
Did  she  think  she  was  forgotten  ?     Now  't  is  Baby's  turn 

once  more ! 


Xlbe  Cbtl^ren's  XTriumpb* 

The  Sunbeams  came  to  my  window, 

And  said,  '  Come  out  and  see 
The  sparkle  on  the  river, 

The  blossom  on  the  tree  ! ' 
But  never  a  moment  parleyed  I 

With  the  bright-haired  Sunbeams'  call ! 
Though  their  dazzling  hands  on  the  leaf  they  laid, 
I  drew  it  away  to  the  curtain-shade, 

Where  a  sunbeam  could  not  fall. 

The  Robins  came  to  my  window, 

And  said,  '  Come  out  and  sing  ! 
Come  out  and  join  the  chorus 

Of  the  festival  of  the  Spring  ! ' 
But  never  a  carol  would  I  trill 

In  the  festival  of  May ; 
But  I  sat  alone  in  my  shadowy  room, 
And  worked  away  in  its  quiet  gloom. 

And  the  Robins  flew  away. 


THE  FIRST  SMILE.  607 

The  Children  came  to  my  window, 

And  said, '  Come  out  and  play  ! 
Come  out  with  us  in  the  sunshine, 

'T  is  such  a  glorious  day  ! ' 
Then  never  another  word  I  wrote, 

And  my  desk  was  put  away  ! 
When  the  Children  called  me,  what  could  I  do? 
The  Robins  might  fail,  and  the  Sunbeams  too, 

But  the  Children  won  the  day. 


Ube  3Fitst  Smile, 

A  SMILE,  a  smile,  my  darling  ! 

After  the  weeks  of  pain  ; 
The  restless  eye,  the  shaded  brow 
Lit  with  a  welcome  brightness  now — 

The  first  sweet  smile  again  ! 

A  smile,  a  smile,  my  darling ! 

Not  many  days  ago 
We  hailed  the  first  fair  snowdrop,  white, 
Pale,  and  sweet  in  the  early  light, 

After  the  frost  and  snow. 

More  welcome  than  the  snowdrop. 

More  gladdening  than  the  sun. 
The  pale  sweet  smile  that  dawned  at  last, 
Although  so  faint,  and  fleeting  fast, 
Although  the  only  one. 


6o8  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

We  hail  it  as  the  herald 

Of  sunny  summer  days, 
Of  blessings  for  our  darling  boy, 
Of  peaceful  love,  and  thankful  joy, 
And  fuller  note  of  praise. 


XTbe  Sun^a^  3Boo?:» 

Read  to  him,  Connie,  read  as  you  sit, 
Cosy  and  warm  in  the  great  arm-chair. 
Let  your  hand  press  lovingly,  lightly  there, 
Let  the  gentle  touch  of  your  sunny  hair 

Over  his  cheek  like  a  soft  breeze  flit. 

Read  to  him,  Connie !     The  house  is  still, 
The  week-day  lessons,  the  week-day  play, 
And  the  week-day  worries  are  hushed  away 
In  the  golden  calm  of  the  Holy  Day ; 

He  will  listen  now  if  ever  he  will 

Read  to  him,  Connie,  read  while  you  may  ! 
For  the  years  will  pass,  and  he  must  go 
Out  in  the  cold  world's  treacherous  flow, 
Danger  and  trial  and  evil  to  know, — 

He  may  drift  in  the  dark,  far,  far  away ! 

Now  he  is  happy  and  safe  in  the  nest, 
Teach  him  to  warble  the  songs  of  home, 
Teach  him  to  soar  but  never  to  roam, 
Only  to  soar  to  a  starry  dome, 

Linking  with  heaven  the  hearts  he  loves  best 


AMY.  609 

Read  to  him,  Connie  !     Read  what  you  love, 
Holy  and  sweet  be  your  Sabbath  choice ; 
And  the  music  that  dwells  in  a  sister's  voice 
Shall  lure  him  to  listen  while  angels  rejoice, 

As  the  soft  tones  blend  with  the  harps  above. 

Read  to  him,  Connie  !    Read  of  the  One 
Who  loves  him  most,  yes,  more  than  you  I 
Read  of  that  love,  so  great,  so  true. 
Love  everlasting,  yet  ever  new ; 

For  who  can  tell  but  his  heart  may  be  won ! 

Read  to  him,  Connie  !     For  it  may  be 
That  your  Sunday  book,  like  a  silver  bar 
Of  steady  light  from  a  guiding  star, 
May  gleam  in  memory,  clear  and  far, 

Across  the  waves  of  a  wintry  sea. 

'  I  have  loved  you,  saith  the  Lord.' — Mal.  i.  2. 

A  MY,  this  thy  promise  be, 
M  arvellous  and  sweet  and  free, 
'  Y  ca,  the  Lord  hath  loved  thee.' 
H  e  hath  loved  thee,  and  He  knows 
A  11  thy  fears  and  all  thy  foes  3 
V  ictor  thou  shalt  surely  be 
E  ver  through  His  love  to  thee. 
R  est  in  quiet  joy  on  this, — 
G  reater  love  hath  none  than  His : 
A  nd  may  this  thy  life-song  be, 
L  ove  to  Him  that  lovcth  thee  ! 
2  Q 


6io  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


*  5t  Is  well  wttb  tbe  Chm:  ^ 

Only  one  dark  December  time, 

With  chill  and  gloomy  hours ; 
And  now — the  '  everlasting  spring,' 

The  '  never- withering  flowers.' 

Only  one  week  of  weary  pains, 

With  suffering  oppressed ; 
And  now — the  Sabbath  that  remains, 

God's  everlasting  rest. 

Only  one  word  of  earthly  speech. 

The  sweetest  and  the  first ; 
And  now — the  songs  that  angels  sing 

From  baby  lips  have  burst 

Only  one  journey,  fondly  borne 

In  arms  of  tenderest  love ; 
And  now — no  wanderings  more  for  him, 

Safe  in  the  home  above. 

Yes,  safe  for  ever,  safe  and  blest, 
Where  they  '  go  no  more  out ; ' 

With  Jesus,  whom  he  never  grieved 
By  any  sin  or  doubt. 

*  In  memory  of  J.  S.,  who  fell  asleep  December  6,  1870,  aged  seven 
months.  The  day  before  his  death  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  his  mother 
with  a  long  gaze  of  wonderful  intelligence  and  love,  and  after  repeated 
effort,  uttered  distinctly  the  '  one  word '— '  Mamma  1 ' 


AT  HOME  TO-NIGHT.  6ii 

Not  preluded  by  tearful  prayer, 

His  happy  praise  shall  swell, 
And  joy  of '  welcome  '  shall  be  his 

Who  never  knew  '  farewell.' 


at  Ibome  ^o^niobt 


The  lessons  are  done  and  the  prizes  won, 

And  the  counted  weeks  iire  past ; 
O  the  holiday  joys  of  the  girls  and  boys 

Who  are  *  home  to-night '  at  last ! 
O  the  ringing  beat  of  the  springing  feet, 

As  into  the  hall  they  rush  ! 
O  the  tender  bliss  of  the  first  home  kiss, 

With  its  moment  of  fervent  hush ! 
So  much  to  tell  and  to  hear  as  well, 

As  they  gather  around  the  glow  ! 
^Vho  would  not  part,  for  the  joy  of  heart 

That  only  the  parted  can  know — 
At  home  to-night ! 

IL 

But  all  have  not  met,  there  are  travellers  yet 
Speeding  along  through  the  dark, 

By  tunnel  and  bridge,  past  river  and  ridge, 
To  the  distant,  yet  nearing  mark. 

But  hearts  are  warm,  for  the  winter  storm 
Has  never  a  chill  for  love  : 


6i2  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

And  faces  are  bright  in  the  flickering  hght 

Of  the  small  dim  lamp  above. 
And  voices  of  gladness  rise  over  the  madness 

Of  the  whirl  and  the  rush  and  the  roar, 
For  rapid  and  strong  it  bears  them  along 

To  a  home  and  an  open  door — 
Yes,  home  to-night  1 


III. 

Oh,  home  to-night,  yes,  home  to-night, 

Through  the  pearly  gate  and  the  open  door ! 
Some  happy  feet  on  the  golden  street 

Are  entering  now  to  '  go  out  no  more.* 
For  the  work  is  done  and  the  rest  begun, 

And  the  training  time  is  for  ever  past, 
And  the  home  of  rest  in  the  mansions  blest 

Is  safely,  joyously  reached  at  last. 
O  the  love  and  light  in  that  home  to-night ! 

O  the  songs  of  bliss  and  the  hairps  of  gold ! 
O  the  glory  shed  on  the  new-crowned  head  ! 

O  the  telling  of  love  that  can  ne'er  be  told — 
O  the  welcome  that  waits  at  the  shining  gates, 

For  those  who  are  following  far,  yet  near ; 
AVhen  all  shall  meet  at  His  glorious  feet 

In  the  light  and  the  love  of  His  home  so  dear ! 
Yes,  '  home  to-night ! ' 

Note. — These  verses,  \vriUen  a  few  days  before  Christmas,  were 
suggested  by  the  remark  of  a  young  friend,  after  picturing  the  merry 
*  breaking  up'of  herold  schoolfellows, — 'Theywillall  be  at  home  to-night.' 
The  thought  arose — '  Perhaps  some  of  Christ's  little  ones,  who  have  been 
learning  In  His  school,  may  be  reaching  His  home  to-night ! '  And  while 
the  third  stanza  was  being  written,  a  telegram  came  bearing  the  sad  and 


TJVO  RINGS.  613 


She  stood  by  the  western  window, 
In  the  midsummer  twilight  fair ; 

And  the  sunset  breeze  leaped  from  the  trees 
To  hft  her  heavy  hair. 

Loving  and  lingering  that  good-night, 
Which  again  and  again  was  said, 

As  ever  a  fresh  excuse  was  found 
To  *  put  off  going  to  bed.' 

She  took  a  ring  from  the  table. 

Blue,  with  a  diamond  eye ; 
A  forget-me-not  that  would  never  fade 

'Neath  any  wintry  sky. 

She  placed  it  on  her  little  hand, 
And  danced  with  sudden  glee ; 

*  Look  at  my  ring,  my  pretty  ring  1 
It  is  mine  just  now,  you  see ! ' 

She  laughed  her  merry  ringing  laugh, 

I  answered  with  a  sigh, 
Strange  echo  to  my  darling's  mirth, 

Though  scarcely  knowing  why. 


unexpected  tidings  that  a  dear  little  girl  of  twelve  years  old  had  indeed 
just  reached  home,  after  a  short  illness,  and  entered  the  presence  of  the 
Saviour  whom  she  had  early  learnt  to  love.  The  coincidence  of  the 
thought  with  the  very  hour  of  her  departure,  being  unconnected  with  any 
idea  of  her  illness,  was  remarkable. 


6i4  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Her  childish  beauty  touched  my  heart, 

And  rose  to  a  vision  fair 
Of  far-off  days,  when  another  ring 

That  little  hand  might  wear. 

And  mine — it  might  be  pulseless  then 

Under  the  churchyard  tree ; 
So  I  drew  her  gently  to  my  side, 

And  took  her  on  my  knee. 

i 

'  It  shall  be  yours,  my  darling,' 

I  said ;  '  but  not  to-day ; 
It  shall  be  yours,  my  darling, 

When  I  am  gone  away.' 

She  glanced  up  quickly  in  my  face, 

Not  sure  that  she  heard  aright ; 
And  the  shadow  that  fell  in  the  sweet  brown  eyes 

Was  sweeter  than  any  light. 

Then  she  bent  her  head  and  kissed  the  ring. 
With  a  kiss  both  grave  and  long ; 

Hardly  the  kiss  of  a  little  child, 
So  fervent  and  so  strong. 

And  hardly  the  tones  of  a  little  child, 

That  spoke  so  earnestly, — 
*  Yes  ;  I  will  always  wear  it, 

Mine  it  shall  always  be. 


TWO  RINGS.  615 


•  But  oh  ! '  (and  the  eyes,  love-brightened, 

Shone  with  a  sudden  tear), 

*  I  hope  I  shall  never  wear  it, 

Never,  oh  never,  dear  1 ' 


Five  summers  smoothly  passed  away, 
And  the  sixth  was  drawing  nigh. 

While  herald  glory  woke  the  earth, 
And  filled  the  dazzling  sky. 

An  April  morning,  radiant 

With  June-like  gleam  and  glow, 

Arose  as  fair  as  if  the  world 
No  shade  of  grief  could  know. 

A  tiny  packet  came  for  me, 
With  many  a  dark-edged  fold, 

And  safe  within  it  lay  a  ring, — 
A  little  ring  of  gold. 

Oh,  well  I  knew  its  carving  quaint 

Of  old  ancestral  days ; 
Last  seen  upon  a  waving  hand 

In  slanting  autumn  rays, 

O  fair  young  hand,  that  waved  good-bye 
With  passing  grace  and  glee  ! 

We  knew  not  that  it  was  farewell, — 
The  last  farewell  for  me. 


6i6  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


The  sweet  bright  spring  that  touched  the  earth 

With  all-renewing  might, 
For  her  eternal  beauty  brought, 

Eternal  life  and  light. 

All  through  the  solemn  Passion  weel: 

She  lay  so  still  and  sweet, 
A  carven  lily,  white  and  pure. 

For  God's  own  temple  meet ; — 

Until  the  day  when  Jesus  died, 

The  Saviour  whom  she  knew, 
The  Shepherd  whom  she  followed  home 

The  shadowy  portal  through. 

And  when  the  evening  gently  closed 

That  sad  and  sacred  day, 
They  left  the  last  kiss  on  her  brow, 

And  took  the  ring  away. 


Two  rings  are  always  on  my  hand, 
The  azure  and  the  gold, 

And  they  shall  gleam  together  till 
My  tale  of  life  is  told. 


Songs, 


6ir 


'BELLS  ACROSS  THE  SNOW.'  619 


^JBells  across  tfte  Snow/ 

O  Christmas,  merry  Christmas  ! 

Is  it  really  come  again  ? 
With  its  memories  and  greetings, 

With  its  joy  and  with  its  pain. 
There's  a  minor  in  the  carol, 

And  a  shadow  in  the  light, 
And  a  spray  of  cypress  twining 

With  the  holly  wreath  to-night 
And  the  hush  is  never  broken 

By  laughter  light  and  low, 
As  we  listen  in  the  starlight 

To  the  '  bells  across  the  snow.' 

O  Christmas,  merry  Christmas ! 

'T  is  not  so  very  long 
Since  other  voices  blended 

With  the  carol  and  the  song ! 
If  we  could  but  hear  them  singing 

As  they  are  singing  now, 
If  we  could  but  see  the  radiance 

Of  the  crown  on  each  dear  brow ; 
There  would  be  no  sigh  to  smother, 

No  hidden  tear  to  flow. 
As  we  listen  in  the  starlight 

To  the  '  bells  across  the  snow.' 


620  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

O  Christmas,  merry  Christmas  ! 

This  never  more  can  be ; 
We  cannot  bring  again  the  days 

Of  our  unshadowed  glee. 
But  Christmas,  happy  Christmas, 

Sweet  herald  of  goodwill, 
With  holy  songs  of  glory 

Brings  holy  gladness  still. 
For  peace  and  hope  may  brighten, 

And  patient  love  may  glow, 
As  we  listen  in  the  starlight 

To  the  'bells  across  the  snow.' 


Singing  at  Sunset 

Did  you  hear  it  at  the  sunset  ? 
Happy,  happy  thrush  ! 
Carolling  and  trilling 

Through  the  evening  hush. 
Singing  at  the  sunset, 
Singing,  singing  sweet, 
Where  the  shadows  and  the  splendour 
Softly,  softly  meet ; 
Pouring  out  the  full  notes. 
Ringing,  ringing  loud. 
When  the  gold  is  on  the  beeches, 
And  the  crimson  on  the  cloud  ! 
Singing  at  the  sunset ! 
Happy,  happy  song ! 

Shall  we  listen  in  the  sunset, 
Listen,  listen  long, 


HEATHER  UNTIE.  621 


Silent  for  the  glory, 

Silent  for  the  song  ? 
Singing  at  the  sunset, 
Angel  voices  hear, 
And  the  harpings  of  the  harpers 
Ringing,  ringing  clear ; 
Nearing  all  the  gladness, 
Leaving  all  the  gloom, 
When  the  light  is  on  the  River, 
And  the  glory  on  the  tomb  I 
Singing  at  the  sunset ! 
Happy,  happy  song ! 


Ibeatber  Xintie** 


*  Heather  Lintie,  tell  me,  pray 
Why  the  Snow-wreath  went  away  r 

'  Silent  Snow-wreath  sat  alone, 
Till  she  heard  the  laughing  call 
Of  the  merriest  stream  of  all 

In  the  land. 
Down  the  steep  from  stone  to  stone. 
Shyly  creeping,  smiling,  weeping, 

While  a  sunbeam  held  her  hand, 
Snow-wreath  found  her  home  ere  long. 
Silence  melted  into  song. 

Now  she  flows,  but  not  alone, 
Singing  and  rejoicing.' 
1  '  Heather  Linlie,"  a  Scotch  linnet ;  '  Burnic,'  a  hltle  brook. 


622  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


II. 

'  Heather  Lintie,  tell  me,  pray> 
Why  the  Burnie  went  away  ? ' 

'  Burnie  laughed  adown  the  hill, 
Keeping  all  the  flowers  awake, 
Till  she  saw  the  purple  lake 

Deep  and  still. 
Down  the  glen  from  stone  to  stone, 
Blithely  dancing,  glinting,  glancing, 

Singing  on  in  silver  tone, 
Burnie  found  her  home  ere  long, 
Silence  sweeter  far  than  song ; 

Now  she  flows,  but  not  alone, 
Resting  and  rejoicing.' 

III. 

*  Heather  Lintie,  tell  me,  pray, 
Why  you  do  not  fly  away  ? ' 

Heather  Lintie  plumed  her  wing, 

Sang  about  a  happy  nest. 

Made  with  one  who  loved  her  best 

In  the  spring. 
Where  beneath  a  boulder-stone, 
In  the  heather  all  together. 

Warmly  nestle  all  her  own. 
Heather  Lintie  will  not  roam 
From  her  sweet  and  hidden  home. 

So  she  sings,  but  not  alone, 
Loving  and  rejoicing. 


SUNBEAM  AND  DEW  DROP.  623 


Sunbeam  an5  Bewbrop, 

O  SUNBEAM,  O  sunbeam  ! 

I  would  be  a  sunbeam  too ! 

When  the  winter  chill 

Hushes  lark  and  rill ; 

When  the  thunder-showers 

Bow  the  weeping  flowers ; 

When  the  shadows  creep, 

Cold,  and  dark,  and  deep, — 
We  would  follow,  swift  and  bright. 
Blending  all  our  love  and  light, 

Chasing  winter,  grim  and  hoary, 
Shining  all  the  tears  away — 

Turning  all  the  gloom  to  glory, 
All  the  darkness  into  day. 

O  dewdrop,  O  dewdrop, 

I  would  be  a  dewdrop  too  ! 

When  the  fatal  glow, 

Sultry,  still  and  slow. 

Makes  the  scentless  flowers 

Droop  in  withering  bowers, 

Leaf  and  shade  and  bloom 

Touched  with  early  doom,— 
We  would  follow,  sweet  and  bright, 
Blending  hfe  and  love  and  light : 

Making  what  was  parched  and  dreary, 
Glad  and  lovely,  fresh  and  fair. 

Softly  cheering  what  was  weary. 
Sparkling,  starUke,  everywhere. 


624  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


2)ream*Sfnalna. 

I  DREAMT  that  I  was  sieging, 

Singing  all  for  thee  : 
And  still  the  notes  went  ringing 

Far  over  land  and  sea. 

Went  ringing  till  they  found  thee, 

Though  so  far  away, 
And,  softly  floating  round  thee, 

Made  music  all  the  day. 

Made  music  that  could  cheer  thee, 

Full  of  gentle  glee ; 
Then  leaving  echoes  near  thee. 

Came  back  again  to  me. 

Came  back  with  love  and  blessing 

On  their  spirit-wings, 
With  musical  expressing 

Of  sweet  and  holy  things. 

I  dreamt  that  I  was  singing, 

Come  again  to  me  ! 
And  all  its  fairy  ringing 

No  more  a  dream  shall  be. 


SHE  WAITS  FOR  ME.  625 


Sbe  Matts  tor  /lfte» 

'  I  WAIT  for  thee  ! '     I  said  it  in  the  splendour 
Of  golden  moons  beneath  the  lonely  palms. 
*  I  wait  for  thee ! '     An  echo,  clear  and  tender, 
Fell  from  the  height  across  the  silver  calms. 
For  I  had  waited  long, 

And  hope  was  growing  weary, 
Though  faith  and  love  were  strong, 
And  lit  the  path  so  dreary, — 
Till  o'er  the  coral  sea 
My  love  should  come  to  me, 
'  I  wait  for  thee.' 


*  I  wait  for  thee  ! '     I  said  it  in  my  dreaming, 
Then  fell  a  hush  beyond  the  hush  of  night ; 
And,  fairer  far  than  southern  waters  gleaming, 
A  Presence  passed  in  soft  celestial  light. 
Then  calm  and  sweet  and  clear, 

A  spirit  voice  came  singing, 
Far,  far  away,  yet  near. 

Like  star-bells'  crystal  ringing. 
Oh,  well  my  own  heart  knew 
That  voice  so  clear  and  true — 
'  I  wait  for  thee ! ' 


'  She  waits  for  me  ! '     I  said  it  in  my  weeping, 
For  never  more  she  cometh  o'er  the  sea ; 

2  R 


626  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

She  waits  for  me  !     A  glorious  vigil  keeping 
Beyond  the  stars,  she  waiteth  there  for  me. 
And  now  I  wait  awhile, 

Beneath  the  palm  trees  lonely. 

And  learn  once  more  to  smile. 

For  she  hath  gladness  only. 

Beside  the  Crystal  Sea, 

Until  the  shadows  flee, 

She  waits  for  me. 


A  Mountain  Cantata. 

'  Tbat  Thy  name  is  near,  Thy  wondrous  works  declare.'— Ps.  Ixxv.  1, 


627 


.f 


THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS.  629 


Ube  /IRountatn  /Iftaf^ens. 

(Zella,  Dora,  Lisetta.) 
A  CANTATA. 


Part  /. — Stmrise. 
(i.)  Dawn  Chorus. 

The  stars  die  out,  and  the  moon  grows  dim, 
Slowly,  softly,  the  dark  is  paling  1 

Comes  o'er  the  eastern  horizon-rim, 
Slowly,  softly,  a  bright  unveiling. 

The  white  mist  floats  in  the  vale  at  rest, 
Ghostly,  dimly,  a  silver  shiver; 

The  golden  east  and  the  purple  west 
Flushing  deep  with  a  crimson  quiver. 

The  mountains  gleam  with  expectant  light. 
Near  and  grandly,  or  far  and  faintly, 

In  festal  robing  of  solemn  white, 
Waiting,  waiting,  serene  and  saintly. 


630  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Lo  !  on  the  mountain-crest,  sudden  and  fair, 
Bright  herald  of  morning,  the  rose-tint  is  there ; 
Peak  after  peak  hghteth  up  with  the  glow 
That  crowneth  with  ruby  the  Alpine  snow. 


Summit  on  summit,  and  crest  beyond  crest, 
The  beacons  are  spreading  away  to  the  west ; 
Crimson  and  fire,  and  amber  and  rose, 
Touch  with  life  and  with  glory  the  Alpine  snov73. 


(2.)  Chorale. 

Father,  who  hast  made  the  mountains, 
.    Who  hast  formed  each  tiny  flower, 
Who  hast  filled  the  crystal  fountains, 
Who  hast  sent  us  sun  and  shower : 
Hear  Thy  children's  morning  prayer, 
Asking  for  Thy  guardian  care  ; 
Keep  and  guide  us  all  the  day, 
Lead  us  safely  all  the  way. 


Let  Thy  glorious  creation 

Be  the  whisper  of  Thy  power  \ 
New  and  wondrous  revelation 

Still  unfolding  every  hour. 
Let  the  blessing  of  Thy  love 
Rest  upon  us  from  above  ; 
And  may  evening  gladness  be 
Full  of  thanks  and  praise  to  Thee. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS.  631 


(3.)  Recitative. — Dora. 

Our  pleasant  summer  work  begins.     You  go, 

O  merry  Zella,  with  the  obedient  herd 

To  upland  pastures,  singing  all  the  way. 

And  you,  Lisetta,  to  the  sterner  heights. 

Where  only  foot  of  Alpine  goat  may  pass. 

Or  step  of  mountain  maiden.     It  is  mine 

To  work  at  home  preparing  smooth  white  cheese 

For  winter  store,  and  often  needed  gain. 

And  mine  the  joy  of  welcoming  once  more 

My  loving  sisters  when  the  evening  falls. 


(4.)  Song. — Dora. 

The  morning  light  flingeth 

Its  wakening  ray. 
And  as  the  day  bringeth 

The  work  of  the  day, 
The  happy  heart  singeth  5 

Awake  and  away  ! 

No  life  can  be  dreary 
When  work  is  delight ; 

Though  evening  be  weary, 
Rest  Cometh  at  night ; 

And  all  will  be  cheery, 
If  faithful  and  right. 

When  duty  is  treasure, 
And  labour  a  joy, 


632  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


How  sweet  is  the  leisure 
Of  ended  employ ! 

Then  only  can  pleasure 
Be  free  from  alloy. 


\Repeat  v.  i. 


(5.)  Song. — Zella. 

Away,  away  !  with  the  break  of  day, 

To  the  sunny  upland  slope  ! 
Away,  away  !  while  the  earliest  ray 

Tells  of  radiant  joy  and  hope. 

With  the  gentle  herd  that  know  the  word 

Of  kindness  and  of  care. 
While  with  footsteps  free  they  follow  me, 

As  I  lead  them  anywhere. 

Away,  away  !  with  a  merry  lay, 
And  the  chime  of  a  hundred  bells ; 

Away,  away  !  with  a  carol  gay, 
And  an  echo  from  the  fells. 

To  the  pastures  high,  where  the  shining  sky 
Looks  down  on  a  wealth  of  flowers  ; 

To  the  sapphire  spots,  where  forget-me-nots\ 
Smile  on  through  lonely  hours. 

Away,  away  !  while  the  breezes  play 

In  the  fragrant  summer  morn ; 
Away,  away  !  while  the  rock-walls  grey 

Resound  with  the  Alpen-horn. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS.  633 


To  the  crags,  all  bright  in  the  golden  light 

With  floral  diadems, 
As  fresh  and  fair,  as  '  rich  and  rare,' 

As  any  royal  gems. 

Away,  away  !  while  the  rainbow  spray 

Wreaths  the  silver  waterfalls ; 
Away,  away !     Oh,  I  cannot  stay 

When  the  voice  of  the  morning  calls ! 

(6.)  Recitative. — Lisetta. 

Adieu,  my  Dora  !  Zella  dear,  adieu  ! 

The  quick  light  tinkle  of  the  goat-bells  now 

Reminds  me  they  are  waiting  for  my  call. 

To  follow  where  small  flowers  have  dared  to  peep 

And  laugh,  beside  the  glacier  and  the  snow. 

I  shall  not  go  alone,  your  love  shall  go  with  me. 

(7.)  Duet. — Zella  and  Dora. 

Adieu,  adieu  till  eventide  ! 

The  hours  will  quickly  pass, 
The  shadow  of  the  rocks  will  glide 

Across  the  sunny  grass. 
We  shall  not  mourn  the  lessening  light, 
For  we  shall  meet  at  home  to-night 

Adieu,  adieu  till  eventide  ! 

The  hour  of  home  and  rest. 
The  hour  that  finds  us  side  by  side, 

The  sweetest  and  the  best. 
For  love  is  joy,  and  love  is  light. 
And  we  shall  meet  at  home  to-night ! 


634  UNDB'R  THE  SURFACE. 

Adieu,  adieu  till  eventide  ! 

'T  is  but  a  little  while ! 
We  would  not  stay  the  morning's  pride, 

Or  noontide's  dazzling  smile. 
But  welcome  evening's  waning  light, 
For  we  shall  meet  at  home  to-night ! 


'  Pari  II. — Noon. 
(8.)  Song. — Lisetta. 

It  is  noon  upon  the  mountains,  and  the  breeze  has  died 

away, 
And  the  rainbow  of  the  morning  passes  from  the  torrent 

spray, 
And  a  calm  of  golden  silence  falls  upon  the   glistening 

snow. 
While  the  shadows  of  the  noon-clouds  rest  upon  the  glen 

below. 

It  is  noon   upon  the   mountains,  noon   upon  the  giant 

rocks ; 
Hushed  the  tinkle  of  the  goat-bells,  and  the  bleating  of 

the  flocks ; 
They  are  sleeping  on  the  gentians,  and  upon  the  craggy 

height, 
In  the  glow  of  Alpine  noon-tide,  in  the  glory  of  the  light. 

It  is  noon  upon  the   mountains :    I  will  rest  beside  the 

snow, 
Glittering  summits  far  above  me,  blue-veined  glaciers  far 

below ; 


THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS.  635 

I   will   rest   upon   the   gentians,    till   the   quiet   shadows 

creep, 
Cool   and   soft,  along   the   mountains,  waking  me   from 

pleasant  sleep. 


(9.)  Noon  Chorus. 

Rest !  while  the  noon  is  high, 

Rest  while  the  glow 
Falls  from  the  summer  sky 

Over  the  snow. 

Rest !  where  the  Alpen-rose 

Crimsons  the  height, 
Piercing  the  mountain-snows, 

Purpling  the  light. 
Rest !  while  the  waterfalls, 

Murmuring  deep 
Far-away  lullabies. 

Hush  thee  to  sleep. 

Rest !  while  the  noon,  etc 

Rest !  where  the  mountains  rise, 

Shining  and  white ; 
Piercing  the  deep  blue  skies, 

Solemn  and  bright. 
Sleep  !  while  the  silence  falls. 

Soothing  to  rest, 
Sweetest  of  lullabies, 

Calming  and  blest. 

Rest !  while  the  noon,  etc. 


636  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

(10.)  Recitative. — Lisetta. 

Where  am  I  ?     I  was  sleeping  by  the  snow 
Upon  the  Alpen-roses  in  the  noon. 
But  am  I  dreaming  now?     The  sun  is  low, 
'T  is  twilight  in  the  valley,  and  I  hear 
No  music  of  the  goat-bells.     Oh,  I  fear 
It  is  no  dream,  but  night  is  coming  soon. 
And  I  am  all  alone  upon  the  height. 
And  there  are  small  faint  tracks,  too  quickly  lost, 
That  need  sure  foot  and  eye  in  fullest  light, 
And  crags  to  leap,  and  torrents  to  be  crossed ! 
I  go !  may  Power  and  Love  still  guard  and  guide 
aright. 

(11.)  Song. — Lisetta. 

Alone,  alone  !  yet  around  me  stand 
God's  mountains,  still  and  grand  ! 

Still  and  grand,  serene  and  bright, 
Sentinels  clothed  in  armour  white, 
And  helmeted  with  scarlet  light. 
His  Power  is  near, 
I  need  not  fear. 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  His  Throne 
Alone,  alone,  yet  not  alone  ! 

Alone,  alone  !  yet  beneath  me  sleep 
The  flowers  His  hand  doth  keep. 
Small  and  fair,  by  crag  or  dell, 
Trustfully  closing  star  and  bell, 
Eve  by  eve  as  twilight  fell. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS.  6yj 

His  Love  is  near, 

I  need  not  fear. 
Beneath  the  rainbow  of  His  Throne, 
Alone,  alone,  yet  not  alone  ! 

Alone,  alone !  yet  I  will  not  fear, 
For  Power  and  Love  are  near ! 
Step  by  step,  by  rock  and  rill, 
Trustfully  onward,  onward  still, 
I  follow  home  with  hope  and  will ! 
So  near,  so  near, 
I  do  not  fear  ! 
Beneath  the  Presence  of  His  Throne, 
Alone,  alone,  yet  not  alone  ! 

Pari  III. — Sunsef. 
(i2.)  Sunset  Chorus. 

It  is  coming,  it  is  coming. 

That  marvellous  up-summing, 
Of  the  loveliest  and  grandest  all  in  one : 

The  great  transfiguration, 

And  the  royal  coronation, 
Of  the  Monarch  of  the  mountains  by  the  priestly  Sun. 

Watch  breathlessly  and  hearken, 

While  the  forest  throne-steps  darken 
His  investiture  in  crimson  and  in  fire ; 

Not  a  herald-trumpet  ringcth, 

Not  a  pffian  echo  flingeth. 
There  is  music  of  a  silence  that  is  mightier  far,  and  higher. 


63S  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Then  in  radiant  obedience, 

A  flush  of  bright  allegiance 
Lights   up  the  vassal-summits  and  the   proud   peaks  all 
around ; 

And  a  thrill  of  mystic  glory 

Quivers  on  the  glaciers  hoary, 
As  the  ecstasy  is  full,  and  the  mighty  brow  is  crowned. 


Crowned  with  ruby  of  resplendence 
In  unspeakable  transcendence, 

'Neath  a  canopy  of  purple  and  of  gold  outspread, 
With  rock-sceptres  upward  pointing, 
While  the  glorious  anointing 

Of  the  consecrating  sunlight  is  poured  upon  his  head. 


Then  a  swift  and  still  transition 

Falls  upon  the  gorgeous  vision, 
And  the  ruby  and  the  fire  pass  noiselessly  away ; 

But  the  paling  of  the  splendour 

Leaves  a  rose-light,  clear  and  tender, 
And  lovelier  than  the  loveliest  dream  that  melts  before 
the  day. 


Oh  to  keep  it,  oh  to  hold  it, 

While  the  tremulous  rays  enfold  it ! 
Oh  to  drink  in  all  the  beauty,  and  never  thirst  again ! 

Yet  less  lovely  if  less  fleeting  ! 

For  the  mingling  and  the  meeting 
Of  the  wonder  and  the  rapture  can  but  overflow  in  pain. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS.  639 

It  is  passing,  it  is  passing ! 

While  the  softening  glow  is  glassing 
In  the  crystal  of  the  heavens  all  the  fairest  of  its  rose. 

Ever  faintly  and  more  faintly, 

Ever  saintly  and  more  saintly, 
Gleam  the  snowy  heights  around  us  in  holiest  repose. 

O  pure  and  perfect  whiteness  ! 

O  mystery  of  brightness 
Upon  those  still,  majestic  brows  shed  solemnly  abroad ! 

Like  the  calm  and  blessed  sleeping 

Of  saints  in  Christ's  own  keeping. 
When  the  smile  of  holy  peace  is  left,  last  witness  for  theii 
God. 

(13.)  Song. — Dora. 

The  tuneful  chime  of  the  herd  is  still, 

For  the  milking  hour  is  past, 
And  tinkle,  tinkle,  along  the  hill, 

The  goat-bells  come  at  last. 
But  sister,  sister,  where  art  thou  ? 
We  watch  and  wait  for  thy  coming  now. 

The  crimson  fades  from  the  farthest  height, 

And  the  rose-fire  pales  away  ; 
And  softly,  softly,  the  shroud  of  night 

Enfolds  the  dying  aay. 
But  sister,  sister,  where  art  thou  ? 
We  watch  and  wait  for  thy  coming  now. 

The  cold  wind  swells  from  the  icy  steep. 
And  the  pine-trees  quake  and  moan ; 


640  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

And  darkly,  darkly  the  grey  clouds  creep, 

And  thou  art  all  alone. 
O  sister,  sister,  where  art  thou  ? 
We  watch  and  wait  for  thy  coming  now. 

(14.)  D  u  ET.  — Zella  and  Dora. 

We  will  seek  thee,  we  will  find  thee, 

Though  the  night-winds  howl  and  sweep  1 
We  will  follow  through  the  torrent, 

We  will  follow  up  the  steep. 
Follow  where  the  Alpen-roses 

Make  the  mountain  all  aglow, 
Follow,  follow  through  the  forest, 

Follow,  follow  to  the  snow ! 
And  our  Alpine  call  shall  echo 

From  the  rock  and  from  the  height, 
Till  a  gladder  tone  rebounding, 
Thine  own  merry  voice  resounding. 

Fill  us  with  a  great  delight. 
Lisetta !     Lisetta ! 
Hush  and  hearken  !     Call  again ! 

Lisetta !     Lisetta ! 
Hearken,  hearken  !     All  in  vain ! 

We  will  seek  thee,  we  will  find  thee, 

In  the  wary  chamois'  haunt ; 
Toil  and  terror,  doubt  and  danger. 

Loving  hearts  shall  never  daunt  1 
We  will  follow  in  the  darkness, 

We  will  follow  in  the  light ; 
Follow,  follow  till  we  find  thee, 

Through  the  noon  or  through  the  night. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS.  641 

•  We  will  seek  thee,  we  will  find  thee, 
Never  weary  till  we  hear, 
Over  all  the  torrents'  rushing, 
Joyous  answer  clearly  gushing. 
Thine  own  Alpine  echo  dear ! 
Lisetta !     Lisetta ! 
Hush  and  hearken  !     All  in  vain  1 

Lisetta  !     Lisetta ! 
Hearken,  hearken !     Call  again ! 

(15.)  Trio. — Zella,  Dora,  and  Lisetta. 

Lisetta  (//).  I  am  coming  ! 

Zella  and  Dora  (/).  She  is  coming  ! 

Lisetta  (/).  I  am  coming,  wait  for  me  ! 

Zella  and  Dora  (/).  She  is  coming ! 

Lisetta  {nif).  I  am  coming  ! 

Zella  and  Dora  {f).  Come,  oh  come,  we  wait  for  thee  ! 

Nearer,  nearer  comes  the  echo. 
Nearer,  nearer  comes  the  voice, 

Nearer,  nearer  fall  the  footsteps. 
Making  us  indeed  rejoice. 
Lisetta.  I  am  coming,  wait  for  me ! 
Zella  and  Dora.  Come,  oh  come,  we  wait  for  thee  ! 

Zella,  Dora,  and  Lisetta. 
We     i  her,  \  we  (  her, 

<  have  sought         >  Khave  found 

They  \  me,  /  they        (  mc. 

Fear  and  danger  all  are  past, 

XT         VI    •     f  1  (  we  lead  her  ) 

Now  with  loyful  song  <    ,       ,      ,        Y 

\  they  lead  me) 

Safely,  safely  home  at  last  I 
2  s 


6^2  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


(i6.)  Chorus— ^//m/i?. 

Safe  home,  safe  home  ! 
Fear  and  danger  all  are  past, 
We  are  safely  home  at  last  1 

Oh,  the  love-light  shed  around, 

In  a  rich  and  radiant  flow, 
When  the  lost  and  loved  are  found, 

Is  the  sweetest  heart  can  know. 
Fairer  than  the  dawn-light  tender, 

Fuller  than  the  noon-tide  glow, 
Brighter  than  the  sunset-splendour,, 

Purer  than  the  moonlit  snow. 

Now  let  the  wild  cloud  sweep, 

Let  the  wild  rain  pour  ! 
Now  let  the  avalanche  leap 

With  its  long  grand  roar ! 
Now  let  the  black  night  fall 

On  the  mountain  crest ! 
Safe  are  our  dear  ones  all 

In  our  mountain  nest. 

Safe  home,  safe  home  1 
Fear  and  danger  all  are  past. 
We  are  safely  home  at  last  I 


Miscellaneous, 


043 


A  SEEING  HEART.  64$ 


21  Seefno  1F3eart.^ 

TO   '  FANNY   CROSBY.' 

Sweet  blind  singer  over  the  sea, 

Tuneful  and  jubilant !  how  can  it  be, 

That  the  songs  of  gladness,  which  float  so  far, 

As  if  they  fell  from  the  evening  star, 

Are  the  notes  of  one  who  never  may  see 

'  Visible  music '  of  flower  and  tree, 

Purple  of  mountain,  or  glitter  of  snow, 

Ruby  and  gold  of  the  sunset  glow, 

And  never  the  light  of  a  loving  face  ? 

Must  not  the  world  be  a  desolate  place 

For  eyes  that  are  sealed  with  the  seal  of  years, 

Eyes  that  are  open  only  for  tears? 

How  can  she  sing  in  the  dark  like  this, 

What  is  her  fountain  of  light  and  bliss? 

Oh,  her  heart  can  see,  her  heart  can  see  ! 
And  its  sight  is  strong,  and  swift  and  free. 

'  Many  sweet  hymns  by  Fanny  Crosby  have  become  known,  and  are 
warmly  appreciated  in  England  and  Scotland.  In  answer  to  the  inquiry, 
'Who  is  Fanny  Crosby?'  the  following  beautiful  reply  was  received  : — 
'  She  is  a  blind  lady,  whose  heart  can  see  splendidly  in  the  sunshine  of 
God's  love.'  Hence  the  above  greeting  to  a  far-off  fellow-minister  of 
song. 


646  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Never  the  ken  of  mortal  eye 

Could  pierce  so  deep  and  far  and  high 

As  the  eagle  vision  of  hearts  that  dwell 

In  the  lofty,  sunlit  citadel 

Of  Faith  that  overcomes  the  world, 

With  banners  of  Hope  and  Joy  unfurled, 

Garrisoned  with  God's  perfect  Peace, 

Ringing  with  paeans  that  never  cease. 

Flooded  with  splendour  bright  and  broad. 

The  glorious  light  of  the  Love  of  God. 

Her  heart  can  see,  her  heart  can  see  ! 
Well  may  she  sing  so  joyously  ! 
For  the  King  Himself,  in  His  tender  grace, 
Hath  shown  her  the  brightness  of  His  face  : 
And  who  shall  pine  for  a  glow-worm  light, 
When  the  Sun  goes  forth  in  His  radiant  might  ? 
She  can  read  His  law,  as  a  shining  chart. 
For  His  finger  hath  written  it  on  her  heart ; 
She  can  read  His  love,  for  on  all  her  way 
His  hand  is  writing  it  every  day. 
'  Bright  cloud '  indeed  must  that  darkness  be, 
Where  '  Jesus  only '  the  heart  can  see. 

Her  heart  can  see  !  her  heart  can  see, 
Beyond  the  glooms  and  the  mystery. 
Glimpses  of  glory  not  fiu-  away, 
Nearing  and  brightening  day  by  day; 
Golden  crystal  and  emerald  bow. 
Lustre  of  pearl  and  sapphire  glow, 
Sparkling  river  and  healing  tree, 
Evergreen  palms  of  victory, 


JULY  ON  THE  MOUNTAINS.  647 

Harp  and  crown  and  raiment  white, 
Holy  and  beautiful  dwellers  in  light ; 
A  throne,  and  One  thereon,  whose  face 
Is  the  glory  of  that  glorious  place. 

Dear  blind  sister  over  the  sea ! 

An  English  heart  goes  forth  to  thee. 

We  are  linked  by  a  cable  of  faith  and  song, 

Flashing  bright  sympathy  swift  along ; 

One  in  the  East  and  one  in  the  West, 

Singing  for  Him  whom  our  souls  love  bestj 

'  Singing  for  Jesus,'  telling  His  love 

All  the  way  to  our  home  above, 

Where  the  severing  sea,  with  its  restless  tide, 

Never  shall  hinder,  and  never  divide. 

Sister  !  what  will  our  meeting  be. 

When  our  hearts  shall  sing  and  our  eyes  shall  see ! 


5ul^  on  tbe  /[Dountafns* 

(on  the  snowdon  ranger  track.) 

There  is  sultry  gloom  on  the  mountain  brow, 

And  a  sultry  glow  beneath. 
Oh  for  a  breeze  from  the  western  sea, 
Soft  and  reviving,  sweet  and  free, 
Over  the  shadowless  hill  and  lea, 

Over  the  barren  heath  ! 

There  are  clouds  and  darkness  around  God's  v/ays, 
And  the  noon  of  life  grows  hot ; 


648  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

And  though  His  faithfulness  standeth  fast, 
As  the  mighty  mountains,  a  shroud  is  cast 
Over  its  glory,  solemn  and  vast 
Veiling,  but  changing  it  not. 


Send  a  sweet  breeze  from  Thy  sea,  O  Lord, 

From  Thy  deep,  deep  sea  of  Love ; 
Though  it  lift  not  the  veil  from  the  cloudy  height, 
Let  the  brow  grow  cool  and  the  footsteps  light. 
As  it  comes  with  holy  and  soothing  might, 
Like  the  wing  of  a  snowy  dove. 


Under  my  window  my  couch  is  set, 

I  have  gazed  through  it  long,  I  am  gazing  yet  \ 

While  on  my  table  lie, 
Without  one  look,  each  treasured  book. 

And  the  verses  planned, 
Which  will  have  to  be  copied  by  and  by, 
For  the  pencil  fell  from  forgetful  hand. 

Though  all  that  from  my  couch  I  see 

Is  the  topmost  bough  of  a  leafless  tree,  % 

Clear  pencilled  where  the  blue 
Dies  into  white  as  it  meets  the  light 

From  the  bright  south-east, 
I  have  revelled  in  my  morning  view, 
My  eyes  have  had  a  very  feast. 


MV  WINDOW.  649 


Last  night  I  sat  without  a  lamp, 

When  the  clouds  broke  up  their  sullen  camp. 

Through  the  tiny  pointed  arch, 
With  its  one  cross-bar,  I  watched  a  star, 

As  on  unknown  quest, 
Just  touch  the  zenith  of  its  march. 
And  curve  its  path  to  the  solemn  west. 

Now  all  the  clouds  have  fled  away, 
The  Dark  has  died,  and  the  living  Day 

Has  dropped  the  stars  on  her  shroud; 
And  as  I  lie,  the  shining  sky 

Is  so  grandly  bright. 
With  so  much  radiance  endowed. 
That  it  trembles  with  its  wealth  of  light. 

A  wealth  that  is  enough  for  me, — 
I  need  not  mountain,  wood,  or  sea. 

In  many-tinted  sight ; 
This  seven-rayed  flow  of  pure  white  glow 

Through  the  sapphire  air, 
This  calming  glory  of  the  Light, 
Is  so  unutterably  fair 

It  is  not  idle  to  employ 
Quick-passing  moments  on  a  joy, 

Like  these  sweet  morning  rays. 
So  I  do  not  think,  but  rest  and  drink 

From  the  crystal  river, 
While  a  dewdrop  of  rejoicing  praise 
Floats  up  to  Him,  the  kind  Light-Giver! 


650  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Canblemas  H)a^» 

Yes,  take  the  greenery  away 

That  smiled  to  welcome  Christmas  Day, 

Untwine  the  drooping  ivy  spray. 

The  holly  leaves  are  dusty  all, 
Whose  glossy  darkness  robed  the  wall, 
And  one  by  one  the  berries  fall. 

Take  down  the  yew,  for  with  a  touch 
The  leaflets  drop,  as  wearied  much 
With  light  and  song,  unused  to  such. 

Poor  evergreens  !     Why  proudly  clain:i 
The  glory  of  your  lovely  name, 
So  soon  meet  only  for  the  flame  ? 

Another  Christmas  Day  will  show 
Another  green  and  scarlet  glow, 
A  fresh  array  of  mistletoe. 

And  this  new  beauty,  arch  or  crown, 
Will  stiffen,  gather  dust,  grow  brown, 
And  in  its  turn  be  taken  down. 

To-night  the  walls  will  seem  so  bare  ! 
Ah,  well !  look  out,  look  up,  for  there 
The  Christmas  stars  are  always  fair. 

They  will  be  shining  just  as  clear 

Another  and  another  year. 

O'er  all  our  darkened  hemisphere. 


'Noivr  651 


So  Christmas  mirth  has  fleeted  fast, 
The  songs  of  time  can  never  last, 
And  all  is  buried  with  the  past. 

But  Christmas  love  and  joy  and  peace 
Shall  never  fade  and  never  cease. 
Of  God's  goodwill  the  rich  increase. 


'IROW!' 


A  NIGHT  of  danger  on  the  sea, 

Of  sleeplessness  and  fear  ! 
Wave  after  wave  comes  thundering 

Against  the  strong  stone  pier  ; 
Each  with  a  terrible  recoil, 

And  a  grim  and  gathering  might. 
As  blast  on  blast  comes  howling  past, 
Each  wild  gust  wilder  than  the  last. 

All  through  that  awful  night. 

II. 

Well  for  the  ships  in  the  harbour  now, 

Which  came  with  the  morning  tide  ; 
With  unstrained  cable  and  anchor  sure, 

How  quietly  they  ride  ! 
Well  for  the  barque  that  reached  at  eve, 

Though  watched  with  breathless  fear. 
It  was  sheltered  first  ere  the  tempest  burst, 

It  is  safe  inside  the  pier ! 


652  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


III. 

But  see  !  a  faint  and  fatal  light 

Out  on  the  howling  sea  ! 
'Tis  a  vessel  that  seeks  the  harbour  mouth, 

As  in  death-agony. 
Though  the  strong  stone  arms  are  open  wide, 

She  has  missed  the  only  way ; 
'T  is  all  too  late,  for  the  storm  drives  fast, 
The  mighty  waves  have  swept  her  past, 
And  against  that  sheltering  pier  shall  cast 

Their  wrecked  and  shattered  prey. 

IV. 

Nearer  and  nearer  the  barque  is  borne, 

As  over  the  deck  they  dash, 
Where  sailors  five  are  clinging  fast 
To  the  sailless  stump  of  the  broken  mast, 

Waiting  the  final  crash. 
Is  it  all  too  late  ?  is  there  succour  yet 

Those  perishing  men  to  reach  ? 
Life  is  so  near  on  the  firm-built  pier, 

That  else  must  be  death  to  each. 

V. 

There  are  daring  hearts  and  powerful  arms, 

And  swift  and  steady  feet. 
And  they  rush  as  down  to  a  yawning  grave, 
In  the  strong  recoil  of  the  mightiest  wave, 
Treading  that  awful  path  to  save, 

As  they  trod  a  homeward  street. 


NOW!'  653 


Over  the  boulders  and  foam  they  rush 

Into  the  ghastly  hollow; 
They  fling  the  rope  to  the  heaving  wreck, 
The  aim  was  sure,  and  it  strikes  the  deck, 

As  the  shouts  of  quick  hope  follow. 


VI. 


Reached,  but  not  saved  !  there  is  more  to  do, 

A  trumpet  note  is  heard ; 
And  over  the. rage  and  over  the  roar 
Of  billowy  thunders  on  the  shore, 

Rings  out  the  guiding  word. 
There  is  one  chance,  and  only  one, 

All  can  be  saved,  but  how  ? 
'  T/ie  rope  holdfast,  but  quit  the  mast 

At  the  trumpet-signal  "  NOW  I" ' 


VII. 

There  is  a  moment  when  the  sea 

Has  spent  its  furious  strength ; 
A  shuddering  pause  with  a  sudden  swirl, 
Gathering  force  again  to  hurl 
Billow  on  billow  in  whirl  on  whirl ; 

That  moment  comes  at  length — 
With  a  single  shout  the  *  Noia '  peals  out, 

And  the  answering  leap  is  made. 
Well  for  the  simple  hearts  that  just 
Loosing  the  mast  with  fearless  trust. 

The  strange  command  obeyed ! 


654  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


VIII. 

For  the  rope  is  good,  and  the  stout  arms  pull 

Ere  the  brief  storm-lull  is  o'er ; 
It  is  but  a  swift  and  blinding  sweep 
Through  the  waters  wild  and  dark  and  deep, 

And  the  men  are  safe  on  shore — 
Safe  !  though  the  fiend-like  blast  pursue, 

Safe  !  though  the  waves  dash  high ; 
But  the  ringing  cheer  that  rises  clear 

Is  pierced  with  a  sudden  cry  : 

IX. 

'  There  are  but  four  drawn  up  to  shore, 

And  fiive  were  on  the  deck  ! ' 
And  the  straining  gaze  that  conquers  gloom 
Still  traces,  drifting  on  to  doom, 

One  man  upon  the  wreck. 
Again  they  chase  in  sternest  race 

The  far-recoiling  wave ;  Ij 

The  rope  is  thrown  to  the  tossing  mark,  * 

But  reaches  not  in  the  windy  dark 

The  one  they  strive  to  save. 

X. 

Again  they  rush,  and  again  they  fail, 

Again,  and  yet  again : 
The  storm  yells  back  defiance  loud, 
The  breakers  rear  a  rampart  proud, 

And  roar,  '  In  vain,  in  vain  1 ' 


'NOW!'  655 


XI. 

Then  a  giant  wave  caught  up  the  wreck. 

And  bore  it  on  its  crest ; 
One  moment  it  hung  quivering  there 

In  horrible  arrest. 
And  the  lonely  man  on  the  savage  sea 

A  lightning  flash  uplit, 
Still  clinging  fast  to  the  broken  mast 

That  he  had  not  dared  to  quit. 


XII. 

Then  horror  of  great  darkness  fell, 

While  eyes  flashed  inward  fire ; 
And  over  all  the  roar  and  dash, 
Through  that  great  blackness  came  a  crash, 

A  token  sure  and  dire. 
The  wave  had  burst  upon  the  pier, 

The  wreck  was  scattered  wide ; 
Another  '  Noio '  would  never  reach 
The  corpse  that  lay  upon  the  beach 

With  the  receding  tide. 


XIII. 

God's  '  Now '  is  sounding  in  your  ears ; 

Oh,  let  it  reach  your  heart ! 
Not  only  from  your  sinfulness 

He  bids  you  part ; 


656  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Your  righteousness  as  filthy  rags 
Must  all  relinquished  be, 

And  only  Jesus'  precious  death 
Must  be  your  plea. 

XVI. 

Now  trust  the  one  provided  rope, 

Now  quit  the  broken  mast, 
Before  the  hope  of  safety  be 

For  ever  past. 
Fear  not  to  trust  His  simple  word, 

So  sweet,  so  tried,  so  true, 
And  you  are  safe  for  evermore ; 

Yes, — even  you  1 


XtObt  at  Bventit)e»i 

'  At  evening  time  it  shall  be  light ' — Zech.  xiv.  7, 

Dear  Lord,  Thy  good  and  precious  Book  seems  written 

all  for  me ; 
Wherever  I  may  open  it,  I  find  a  word  from  Thee. 
My  eyes  are  dim,  but  this  one  verse  is  pillow  for  the 

night, 
Thy  promise  that  *  At  Evening  Time  it  shall  be '  surely 

'light.' 

^  Written  to  accompany  an  engraving : — ^An  old  man,  worn,  but 
peaceful,  sitting  at  his  cottage  door  in  evening  sunlight,  with  The  Book 
on  his  knee. 


LIGHT  AT  E VENTIDE.  65 7 


It  was  not  always  light  with  me ;  for  many  a  sinful  year 
I  walked   in   darkness,  far  from   Thee;    but  Thou  hast 

brought  me  near, 
And  washed  me  in  Thy  precious  blood,  and  taught  me  by 

Thy  grace, 
And  lifted   up  on  my  poor  soul  the  brightness  of  Thy 

face. 

My  Saviour  died  in  darkness  that  I  might  live  in  light, 
He  closed  His  eyes  in  death  that  mine  might  have  the 

heavenly  sight ; 
He  gave  up  all  His  glory  to  bring  it  down  to  me. 
And  took  the  sinner's  place  that  He  the  sinner's  Friend 

might  be. 

His  Spirit  shines  upon  His  Word,  and  makes  it  sweet 

indeed. 
Just  like  a  shining  lamp  held  up  beside  me  as  I  read ; 
And  brings  it  to  my  mind  again  alone  upon  my  bed, 
Till  all  abroad  within  my  heart  the  love  of  God  is  shed. 

I've   nearly  passed  the   shadows   and   the  sorrows   here 

below ; 
A  little  while — a  little  while,  and  He  will  come,  I  know, 
And  take  me  to  the  glory  that  I  think  is  very  near. 
Where  I  shall  see  Him  face  to  face  and  His  kind  welcome 

hear. 

And  now  my  loving  Jesus  is  my  Light  at  Eventide, 
The  welcome  Guest  that  enters  in  for  ever  to  abide ; 
He  never  leaves  me  in  the  dark,  but  leads  me  all  the  way, — 
So  it  is  light  at  Evening  Time,  and  soon  it  will  be  Daj ! 

2  T 


658  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


*l^et  Speaf?etb/ 

Yet  speaketh  ! '  though  the  voice  is  hushed  that  filled 
Cathedral  nave  or  choir,  like  clearest  bell, 

With  music  of  God's  truth, — that  softly  thrilled 
The  silence  of  the  mourner's  heart, — that  fell 

So  sweetly,  oh,  so  sweetly,  on  the  ear 

Of  those  to  whom  that  voice  was  dearest  of  the  dear. 


'  Yet  speaketh  ! '     For  the  echo  lingers  yet 
Where  fifty  years  ago  his  voice  was  heard, 

And  old  men  weep,  who  never  can  forget 

Their  early  gladness  through  his  faithful  word  ; 

O'er  all  the  waves  and  storms  of  life  between, 

That  voice  floats  on  for  them  still  powerful  and  serene. 

'  Yet  speaketh  ! '     Glowing  hymns,  like  heavenly  breeze, 

That  stir  us,  and  our  soft  Hosannas  lift 
To  Hallelujahs  ; — holy  melodies. 

Enrobed  in  grand  sweet  harmonies,  a  gift 
Laid  wholly  on  the  altar  of  his  God, 
Without  one  thought  or  care  for  this  world's  vain  applaud : 

Deep  teachings  from  the  Word  he  held  so  dear, 
Things  new  and  old  in  that  great  treasure  found ; 

A  valiant  cry,  a  witness  strong  and  clear, 
A  trumpet  with  no  pale,  uncertain  sound  : — 

These  shall  not  die,  but  live ;  his  rich  bequest 

To  that  belovbd  Church  whose  servant  is  at  rest. 


*  YET  SPEAKETH:  659 

*  Yet  speaketh  ! '     In  the  memory  of  those 

To  whom  he  was  indeed  '  a  Uving  song,'  ^ 
The  voice,  that  like  fair  morning  Hght  arose, 

Rings  on  with  holy  influence  deep  and  strong ; 
Rings  on,  unmingled  with  another  sound, 
The  sweetest,  clearest  still  among  all  others  found 

'  Yet  speaketh  ! '     By  that  consecrated  life, 

The  single-hearted,  noble,  true,  and  pure, 
Which,  lifted  far  above  all  worldly  strife, 

Could  all  but  sin  so  patiently  endure. 
O  eloquence  !  by  this  he  speaketh  yet ; 

For  who  that  knew  and  loved  could  evermore  forget  ? 

'  Yet  speaketh  ! '     E'en  the  shadow,  poor  and  dim, 
Of  sun-traced  portrait,  and  the  cold,  white  stone 

(All  that  the  stranger-artist  guessed  of  him), 
Speak  to  our  hearts  in  gentle  spirit-tone. 

Vocal  with  messages  of  faith  and  love, 

And  burning  thoughts  that  fall  like  swift  stars  from  above. 

*  Yet  speaketh  ! '     There  was  no  last  word  of  love, 

So  suddenly  on  us  the  sorrow  fell ; 
His  bright  translation  to  the  home  above 

Was  clouded  with  no  shadow  of  farewell ; 
His  last  Lent  evening  closed  with  praise  and  prayer. 
And  then  began  the  songs  of  endless  Easter  there. 

*  Yet  speaketh  ! '     O  my  father,  now  more  dear 

Than  ever,  I  have  cried — '  Oh,  speak  to  me 

^  A  l)lind  girl,  who  heard  two  or  three  of  his  last  sermons,  said   '  He 
was  a  living  song  to  nie.'    She  too,  is  'gone  home.' 


66o  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

Only  once  more,  once  more  ! '     But  now  I  hear 

The  far-off  whisper  of  thy  melody ; 
Thou  art  'yet  speaking'  on  the  heavenly  hill, 
Each  word  a  note  of  joy, — and  shall  we  not  '  be  still ' 


3for  IRew  lear'5  S)ai^  1S74, 

'  From  glory  to  glory.' — 2  Cor.  iii.  18. 

*  From  glory  unto  glory ! '     Be  this  our  joyous  song. 
As  on  the  King's  own  highway  we  bravely  march  along  ! 
'  From  glory  unto  glory  !'     O  word  of  stirring  cheer. 
As  dawns  the  solemn  brightness  of  another  glad  New  Year. 

Our  own  beloved  Master  '  hath  many  things  to  say ; ' 
Look  forward  to  His  teaching,  unfolding  day  by  day ; 
To  whispers  of  His  Spirit,  while  resting  at  His  feet, 
To  glowing  revelation,  to  insight  clear  and  sweet. 

'  From  glory  unto  glory  ! '     Our  faith  hath  seen  the  King, 
We  own  His  matchless  beauty,  as  adoringly  we  sing  .- 
But  He  hath  more  to  show  us  !      O  thought  of  untold 

bliss ! 
And  we  press  on  exultingly  in  certain  hope  to  this  : — 

To  marvellous  outpourings  of  His  '  treasures  new  and  old,' 
To  largess  of  His  bounty,  paid  in  the  King's  own  gold, 
To  glorious  expansion  of  His  mysteries  of  grace, 
To  radiant  unveilings  of  the  brightness  of  His  face. 


FOR  NEW  YEAR'S  DAY,  1874.  661 


•From  glory   unto  glory!'      What  great  things  He  hath 

done, 
What  wonders  He  hath  shown  us,  what  triumphs  He  hath 

won  ! 
We  marvel  at  the  records  of  the  blessings  of  the  year  ! 
But  sweeter  than  the  Christmas  bells  rings  out  His  promise 

clear — 

That  '  greater  things,'  far  greater,  our  longing  eyes  shall 

see  ! 
We  can  but  wait  and  wonder  what  '  greater  things '  shall 

be! 
But  glorious  fulfilments  rejoicingly  we  claim, 
While  pleading  in  the  power  of  the  All-prevailing  Name. 

*  From  glory  unto  glory  ! '     What  mighty  blessings  crown 
The  lives  for  which  our  Lord  hath  laid  His  own  so  freely 

down  ! 
Omnipotence  to  keep  us,  Omniscience  to  guide, 
Jehovah's  Triune  Presence  within  us  to  abide  ! 

■4 

The  fulness  of  His  blessing  encompasseth  our  way ; 

The  fulness   of  His  promises   crowns   every  brightening 

day; 
The  fulness  of  His  glory  is  beaming  from  above, 
While  more  and  more  we  realize  the  fulness  of  His  love. 

'  From  glory  unto  glory  ! '     Without  a  shade  of  care. 
Because  the  Lord  who  loves  us  will  every  burden  bear ; 
Because   we   trust   Him  fully,   and   know   that   He   will 

guide, 
And  know  that  He  will  keep  us  at  His  beloved  side. 


662  UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 

*  From  glory  unto  glory  ! '     Though  tribulation  fall, 

It  cannot  touch  our  treasure,  when  Christ  is  all  in  all ! 
Whatever  lies  before  us,  there  can  be  naught  to  fear, 
For  what  are  pain  and  sorrow  when  Jesus  Christ  is  near  ? 

'  From  glory  unto  glory  ! '     O  marvels  of  the  word  ! 

*  With  open  face  beholding  the  glory  of  the  Lord,' 

We,  even  we  (O  wondrous  grace  !)  '  are  changed  into  the 

same,' 
The  image  of  our  Saviour,  to  glorify  His  Name. 

Abiding  in  His  presence,  and  walking  in  the  light. 
And  seeking  to  '  do  always  what  is  pleasing  in  His  sight,' 
We  look  to  Him  to  keep  us  '  all  glorious  within,' 
Because  '  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  is  cleansing  from  all 
sin.' 

The  things  behind  forgetting,  we  only  gaze  before, 

*  From  glory  unto  glory,'  that  '  shineth  more  and  more,' 
Because  our  Lord  hath  said  it,  that  such  shall  be  our  way 
(O  splendour  of  the  promise  !)  '  unto  the  perfect  day.' 

From  glory  unto  glory  ! '     Our  fellow-travellers  still 
Are  gathering  on  the  journey  !  the  bright  eiectric  thrill 
Of  quick  instinctive  union,  more  frequent  and  more  sweet, 
Shall  swiftly  pass  from  heart  to  heart  in  true  and  tender 
beat. 

And  closer  yet,  and  closer  the  golden  bonds  shall  be, 
Enlinking  all  who  love  our  Lord  in  pure  sincerity ; 
And  wider  yet,  and  wider  shall  the  circling  glory  glow, 
As  more  and  more  are  taught  of  God  that  mighty  love  to 
know. 


FOR  NEW  YEAR'S  DAY,   1S74.  66^ 


O  ye  who  seek  the  Saviour,  look  up  in  faith  and  love, 
Come  up  into  the  sunshine,  so  bright  and  warm  above  ! 
No  longer  tread  the  valley,  but,  clinging  to  His  hand, 
Ascend  the  shining  summits  and  view  the  glorious  land. 

Our  harp-notes  should  be  sweeter,  our  trumpet-tones  more 

clear, 
Our  anthems  ring  so  grandly,  that  all  the  world  must  hear ! 
Oh,  royal  be  our  music,  for  who  hath  cause  to  sing 
Like  the  chorus  of  redeemed  ones,  the  Children  of  the 

King! 

Oh,  let  our  adoration  for  all  that  He  hath  done 

Peal  out  beyond  the  stars  of  God,  while  voice  and  life  are 

one ! 
And  let  our  consecration  be  real,  and  deep,  and  true ; 
Oh,    even   now   our   hearts  shall  bow,   and  joyful  vows 

renew ! — 

'  In  full  and  glad  surrender  we  give  ourselves  to  Thee, 
Thine  utterly,  and  only,  and  evermore  to  be  ! 
O  Son  of  God,  who  lovest  us,  we  will  be  Thine  alone. 
And  all  we  are,  and  all  we  have,  shall  henceforth  be  Thine 
own!' 

Now,  onward,  ever  onward,  from  '  strength  to  strength '  we 

go, 
While  'grace  for  grace'  abundantly  shall  from  His  fulness 

flow. 
To  glory's  full  fruition,  from  glory's  foretaste  here, 
Until  His  Very  Presence  crown  our  happiest  New  Year! 


664 


UNDER  THE  SURFACE. 


Another  little  volume  filled  with  varied  verse  and  song, 
Should  wake  another  note  of  praise,  unheard,  but  deep 

and  strong ; 
For  He  who  knows  my  truest  need,  and  leads  me  day  by 

day, 
Has  given  the  music  that  hath  been  such  solace  on  my 

way. 

I  look  up  to  my  Father,  and  know  that  I  am  heard, 
And  ask  Him  for  the  glowing  thought,  and  for  the  fitting 

word  : 
I  look  up  to  my  Father,  for  I  cannot  write  alone, 
'T  is  sweeter  far  to  seek  His  strength  than  lean  upon  my 

own. 

And  so  the  closing  verses  of  my  new-filled  book  shall  be 
A  note  of  praise,  dear  Father,  sung  only  unto  Thee, — 
To  Thee,  who  hast  so  helped  me,  to  Thee  who  hast  so 

blessed, 
The  only  Friend  who  knows  my  heart,  the  nearest  and  the 

best. 


I  bless  Thee,  gracious  Father,  who  hast  moulded  praise 

from  pain. 
And  turned  a  wail  of  mourning  to  a  trustful  calm  refrain, 
To  many  a  sorrow  giving  me  an  afterward  of  song, 
And  wafting  it  to  other  hearts  in  comfort  true  and  strong. 

^  Written  on  the  last  leaf  of  a  MS.  volume. 


FINIS.  665 

I  bless  Thee,  gracious  Father,  for  Thy  pleasant  gift  to 

me. 
And  earnestly  I  ask  Thee  that  it  may  always  be 
In  perfect  consecration  laid  at  Thy  glorious  feet, 
Touched  with  Thine  altar-fire,  and  made  an  offering  pure 

and  sweet. 


Loyal  Responses. 


mi 


CONSECRATION  HYMr^r.  669 


Consecratfon  If^^mn. 

'Here  we  offer  and  present  unto  Thee,  O  Lord,  ourselves,  our  souis 
and  bodies,  to  be  a  reasonable,  holy,  and  lively  sacrifice  unto 
Thee.' 

Take  my  life,  and  let  it  be 
Consecrated,  Lord,  to  Thee. 

Take  my  moments  and  my  days ; 
Let  them  flow  in  ceaseless  praise. 

Take  my  hands,  and  let  them  move 
At  the  impulse  of  Thy  love. 

Take  my  feet,  and  let  them  be 
Swift  and  '  beautiful '  for  Thee. 

Take  my  voice,  and  let  me  sing 
Always,  only,  for  my  King. 

Take  my  lips,  and  let  them  be 
Filled  with  messages  from  Thee. 

Take  my  silver  and  my  gold ; 
Not  a  mite  would  I  withhold. 


670  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


Take  my  intellect,  and  use 

Every  power  as  Thou  shalt  choose. 

Take  my  will,  and  make  it  Thine ; 
It  shall  be  no  longer  mine. 

Take  my  heart,  it  is  Thine  own  ; 
It  shall  be  Thy  royal  throne. 

Take  my  love ;  my  Lord,  I  pour 
At  Thy  feet  its  treasure-store. 

Take  myself,  and  I  will  be 
Ever,  ojily,  all  for  Thee. 


Set  Hpart. 

•Know  that  the  Lord  hath  set  apart  him  that  is  godly  for 
Himself.' — Ps.  iv.  3. 


Set  apart  for  Jesus ! 

Is  not  this  enough, 
Though  the  desert  prospect 
Open  wild  and  rough  ? 
Set  apart  for  His  delight. 

Chosen  for  His  holy  pleasure. 
Sealed  to  be  His  special  treasure ! 
Could  we  choose  a  nobler  joy  ? — and  would  we  if  we  might? 


SET  APART.  671 


II. 

Set  apart  to  serve  Him, 

Ministers  of  light, 
Standing  in  His  presence, 
Ready  day  or  night ! 
Chosen  for  His  service  blest, 

He  would  have  us  always  willing 
Like  the  angel-hosts,  fulfilling 
Swiftly  and  rejoicingly,  each  recognised  behest. 

III. 

Set  apart  to  praise  Him, 

Set  apart  for  this  ! 
Have  the  blessed  angels 
Any  truer  bliss  ? 
Soft  the  prelude,  though  so  clear ; 
Isolated  tones  are  trembling ; 
But  the  chosen  choir,  assembling, 
Soon  shall  sing  together,  while  the  universe  shall  hear. 

IV. 

Set  apart  to  love  Him, 

And  His  love  to  know  ! 
Not  to  waste  affection 
On  a  passing  show. 
Called  to  give  Him  life  and  heart, 

Called  to  pour  the  hidden  treasure, 
That  none  other  claims  to  measure, 
Into  His  belovM  hand  !  thricc-blessbd  '  set  apart ! ' 


672  LOYAL  RJESPONSES. 


V. 


Set  apart  for  ever 

For  Himself  alone  ! 
Now  we  see  our  calling 
Gloriously  shown  ! 
Owning,  with  no  secret  dread, 
This  our  holy  separation, 
Now  the  crown  of  consecration 
Of  the  Lord  our  God  shall  rest  upon  our  willing  head  !  ^ 


Hbe  Secret  of  a  If^app^  Da\?. 

*  The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear  Him.'— Ps.  xxv.  14. 


Just  to  let  thy  Father  do 

What  He  will ; 
Just  to  know  that  He  is  true, 

And  be  still. 
Just  to  follow  hour  by  hour 

As  He  leadeth ; 
Just  to  draw  the  moment's  power 
As  it  needeth. 
Just  to  trust  Him,  this  is  all ! 
Then  the  day  will  surely  be 
Peaceful,  whatsoe'er  befall. 

Bright  and  blessed,  calm  and  free. 
'Num.  vi,  7. 


THE  SECRET  OF  A  HAPPY  DAY.  673 


II. 


Just  to  let  Him  speak  to  thee 

Through  His  word, 
Watching,  that  His  voice  may  be 

Clearly  heard. 
Just  to  tell  Him  everything 

As  it  rises. 
And  at  once  to  Him  to  bring 
All  surprises. 
Just  to  listen,  and  to  stay 

Where  you  cannot  miss  His  voice. 
This  is  all !  and  thus  to-day. 
Communing,  you  shall  rejoice. 


III. 

Just  to  ask  Him  what  to  do 

All  the  day, 
And  to  make  you  quick  and  true 

To  obey. 
Just  to  know  the  needed  grace 

He  bestoweth. 
Every  bar  of  time  and  place 
Overfloweth. 
Just  to  take  thy  orders  straight 

From  the  Master's  own  command  ! 
Blessed  day  !  when  thus  we  wait 
Always  at  our  Sovereign's  hand. 
2  u 


674  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


IV. 

Just  to  recollect  His  love 

Always  true ; 
Always  shining  from  above, 

Always  new. 
Just  to  recognise  its  light 

All-enfolding ; 
Just  to  claim  its  present  might. 
All-upholding. 
Just  to  know  it  as  thine  own, 

That  no  power  can  take  away. 
Is  not  this  enough  alone 
For  the  gladness  of  the  day  ? 


V. 


Just  to  trust,  and  yet  to  ask 

Guidance  still; 
Take  the  training,  or  the  task, 

As  He  will. 
Just  to  take  the  loss  or  gain, 

As  He  sends  it ; 
Just  to  take  the  joy  or  pain, 
As  He  lends  it. 
He  who  formed  thee  for  His  praise 

Will  not  miss  the  gracious  aim  ; 
So  to-day  and  all  thy  days 

Shall  be  moulded  for  the  same. 


THE  UNFAILING  ONE.  675 


VL 

Just  to  leave  in  His  dear  hand 

Little  things, 
All  we  cannot  understand, 

All  that  stings  ! 
Just  to  let  Him  take  the  care 

Sorely  pressing, 
Finding  all  we  let  Him  bear 
Changed  to  blessing. 
This  is  all !  and  yet  the  way 

Marked  by  Him  who  loves  thee  best  I 
Secret  of  a  happy  day, 

Secret  of  His  promised  rest. 


*He  faileth  not.'— Zeph.  iii.  5. 


He  who  hath  led  will  lead 

All  through  the  wilderness  ; 
He  who  hath  fed  will  feed ; 

He  who  hath  blessed  will  bless ; 
He  who  hath  heard  thy  cry, 

Will  never  close  His  ear ; 
He  who  hath  marked  thy  faintest  sigh, 

Will  not  forget  thy  tear. 
He  loveth  always,  faileth  never ; 
So  rest  on  Him,  to-day,  for  ever  1 


1 


676  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


II. 

He  who  hath  made  thee  whole 

Will  heal  thee  day  by  day  j 
He  who  hath  spoken  to  thy  soul 

Hath  many  things  to  say. 
He  who  hath  gently  taught 

Yet  more  will  make  thee  know ; 
He  who  so  wondrously  hath  wrought 

Yet  greater  things  will  show. 
He  loveth  always,  faileth  never  ; 
So  rest  on  Him,  to-day,  for  ever ! 

III. 

He  who  hath  made  thee  nigh 

Will  draw  thee  nearer  still ; 
He  who  hath  given  the  first  supply 

Will  satisfy  and  fill. 
He  who  hath  given  thee  grace 

Yet  more  and  more  will  send ; 
He  who  hath  set  thee  in  the  race 

Will  speed  thee  to  the  end. 
He  loveth  always,  faileth  never  ; 
So  rest  on  Him,  to-day,  for  ever  ! 

IV. 

He  who  hath  won  thy  heart 
Will  keep  it  true  and  free ; 

He  who  hath  shown  thee  what  thou  ait 
Will  show  Himself  to  thee. 


ON  THE  LORD'S  SIDE.  677 


He  who  hath  bid  thee  Hve, 

And  made  thy  hfe  His  own, 
Life  more  abundantly  will  give, 
And  keep  it  His  alone. 
He  loveth  always,  faileth  never ; 
So  rest  on  Him,  to-day,  for  ever ! 


Then  trust  Him  for  to-day 

As  thine  unfailing  Friend, 
And  let  Him  lead  thee  all  the  way, 

Who  loveth  to  the  end. 
And  let  the  morrow  rest 
In  His  beloved  hand  ; 
His  good  is  better  than  our  best, 
As  we  shall  understand, — 
If,  trusting  Him  who  faileth  never, 
We  rest  on  Him,  to-day,  for  ever  1 


©It  tbe  Xor^'s  Si&e. 

'  Thine  are  we,  David,  and  on  thy  side,  thou  son  of  Jc;se. 
I  Chron.  xii.  i3. 

I. 

Who  is  on  the  Lord's  side  ? 

Who  will  serve  the  King  ? 
Who  will  be  His  helpers, 

Other  lives  to  bring? 


678  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 

Who  will  leave  the  world's  side  ? 

Who  will  face  the  foe  ? 
Who  is  on  the  Lord's  side  ? 

Who  for  Him  will  go  ? 
Response.  By  Thy  call  of  mercy, 
By  Thy  grace  divine, 
We  are  on  the  Lord's  side ; 
Saviour,  we  are  Thine. 


II. 


Not  for  weight  of  glory, 

Not  for  crown  and  palm, 
Enter  we  the  army. 

Raise  the  warrior-psalm ; 
But  for  Love  that  claimeth 

Lives  for  whom  He  died  : 
He  whom  Jesus  nameth 
Must  be  on  His  side. 
Response.  By  Thy  love  constraining. 
By  Thy  grace  divine. 
We  are  on  the  Lord's  side  ; 
Saviour,  we  are  Thine. 


HI. 

Jesus,  Thou  hast  bought  us, 
Not  with  gold  or  gem, 

But  with  Thine  own  life-blood, 
For  Thy  diadem. 


ON  THE  LORD'S  SIDE.  679 

With  Thy  blessing  fiUing 

Each  who  comes  to  Thee, 
Thou  hast  made  us  wiUing, 
Thou  hast  made  us  free. 
Response.  By  Thy  grand  redemption, 
By  Thy  grace  divine, 
We  are  on  the  Lord's  side  ; 
Saviour,  wc  are  Thine. 


IV. 


Fierce  may  be  the  conflict, 

Strong  may  be  the  foe, 
But  the  King's  own  army 

None  can  overthrow. 
Round  His  standard  ranging, 

Victory  is  secure, 
For  His  truth  unchanging 
Makes  the  triumph  sure. 
Response.  Joyfully  enlisting 

By  Thy  grace  divine, 
We  are  on  the  Lord's  side 
Saviour,  we  are  Thine. 


V. 


Chosen  to  be  soldiers 

Li  an  alien  land  ; 
'  Chosen,  called,  and  faithful,' 

For  our  Captain's  band  3 


6So  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


In  the  service  royal 

Let  us  not  grow  cold ; 
Let  us  be  right  loyal, 

Noble,  true,  and  bold. 
Response.  Master,  Thou  wilt  keep  us, 
By  Thy  grace  divine, 
Always  on  the  Lord's  side, 
Saviour,  always  Thine  1 


^rue*bearte&,  'limbole=f3earte&» 
I. 

True-hearted,  whole-hearted,  faithful  and  loyal, 
King  of  our  lives,  by  Thy  grace  we  will  be 

Under  Thy  standard,  exalted  and  royal. 

Strong  in  Thy  strength,  we  will  batde  for  Thee  I 


II. 

True-hearted,  whole-hearted  !     Fullest  allegiance 
Yielding  henceforth  to  our  glorious  King  ; 

Valiant  endeavour  and  loving  obedience 
Freely  and  joyously  now  would  we  bring. 

lit. 

True-hearted  !     Saviour,  Thou  knowest  our  story ; 

Weak  are  the  hearts  that  we  lay  at  Thy  feet. 
Sinful  and  treacherous  !  yet,  for  Thy  glory, 

Heal  them,  and  cleanse  them  from  sin  and  decei*: 


\ 


TRUE-HEARTED,    WHOLE-HEARTED.  GSi 


IV. 


Whole-hearted  !     Saviour,  beloved  and  glorious, 
Take  Thy  great  power,  and  reign  Thou  alone, 

Over  our  wills  and  affections  victorious, 
Freely  surrendered,  and  wholly  Thine  own. 


V. 


^d-^- hearted,  false-  hearted  !     Heed  we  the  warning ! 

Only  the  whole  can  be  perfectly  true ; 
Bring  the  whole  offering,  all  timid  thought  scorning, 

True-hearted  only  if  whole-hearted  too. 


VI. 


Half-hearted  !     Saviour,  shall  aught  be  withholden. 
Giving  Thee  part  who  hast  given  us  all  ? 

Blessings  outpouring,  and  promises  golden 
Pledging,  with  never  reserve  or  recall. 


VII. 


Half-hearted  !     Master,  shall  any  who  know  Thee 

Grudge  Thee  their  lives,  who  hast  laid  down  Thine  own? 

Nay  ;  we  would  offer  the  hearts  that  we  owe  Thee, — 
Live  for  Thy  love  and  Thy  glory  alone 


VIII. 


Sisters,  dear  sisters,  the  call  is  resounding, 

Will  ye  not  echo  the  silver  refrain. 
Mighty  and  sweet,  and  in  gladness  abounding, — 

'  True-hearted,  whole-hearted  ! '  ringing  again  ? 


CS2  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


IX. 


Jesus  is  with  us,  His  rest  is  before  us, 
Brightly  His  standard  is  waving  above. 

Brothers,  dear  brothers,  in  gathering  chorus, 
Peal  out  the  watchword  of  courage  and  love ! 


X. 


Peal  out  the  watchword,  and  silence  it  never, 
Song  of  our  spirits,  rejoicing  and  free  ! 

'  True-hearted,  whole-hearted,  now  and  for  ever. 
King  of  our  lives,  by  Thy  grace  we  will  be  I  * 


*B^  Zb^  Cross  ant)  passion. 

'  He  Lath  given  us  rest  by  His  sorrow,  and  life  by  His  death.' — 

John  Bunvai.'. 


What  hast  Thou  done  for  me,  O  mighty  Friend, 

Who  lovest  to  the  end  ! 
Revea]  Thyself,  that  I  may  now  behold 

Thy  love  unknown,  untold, 
Bearing  the  curse,  and  made  a  curse  for  me, 
That  blessed  and  made  a  blessing  I  might  be. 

II. 

Oh,  Thou  wast  crowned  with  thorns,  that  I  might  wear 
A  crown  of  glory  fair ; 


'BY  THY  CROSS  AND  PASSION.'  6S3 


'  Exceeding  sorrowful,*  that  I  might  be 

Exceeding  glad  in  Thee ; 
'  Rejected  and  despised,'  that  I  might  stand 
Accepted  and  complete  on  Thy  right  hand. 


III. 

Wounded  for  my  transgression,  stricken  sore, 
That  I  might  '  sin  no  more ; ' 

Weak,  that  I  might  be  always  strong  in  Thee ; 
Bound,  that  I  might  be  free ; 

Acquaint  with  grief,  that  I  might  only  know 

Fulness  of  joy  in  everlasting  flow. 


IV. 

Thine  was  the  chastisement,  with  no  release, 
That  mine  might  be  the  peace ; 

The  bruising  and  the  cruel  stripes  were  Thine, 
That  healing  might  be  mine ; 

Thine  was  the  sentence  and  the  condemnation, 

Mine  the  acquittal  and  the  full  salvation. 


V. 

For  Thee  revilings,  and  a  mocking  throng, 

For  me  the  angel-song ; 
For  Thee  the  frown,  the  hiding  of  God's  face. 

For  me  His  smile  of  grace ; 
Sorrows  of  hell  and  bitterest  death  for  Thee, 
And  heaven  and  everlasting  life  for  me. 


684  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


VI, 

Thy  cross  and  passion,  and  Thy  precious  death, 

While  I  have  mortal  breath, 
Shall  be  my  spring  of  love  and  work  and  praise, 

The  life  of  all  my  days ; 
Till  all  this  mystery  of  love  supreme 
Be  solved  in  glory — glory's  endless  theme.  J 

Ube  ©pene5  ^fountain, 

*  A  fountain  opened  for  sin  and  for  uncleanness.  .  .  .  Wounded  in  the 
house  of  My  friends. — Zech.  xiii.  i,  6. 

I. 

And  I  have  wounded  Thee — oh,  wounded  Thee  ! — 
Wounded  the  dear,  dear  Hand  that  holds  me  fast ! 

Oh,  to  recall  the  word  !     That  cannot  be  ! 

Oh,  to  unthink  the  thought  that  out  of  reach  hath  passed  I 

II. 

Sorrow  and  bitter  grief  replace  my  bliss ; 

I  could  not  wish  that  any  joy  should  be ; 
There  is  no  room  for  any  thought  but  this, 

That  I  have  sinned — have  sinned — have  wounded  Thee  ! 

III. 

How  could  I  grieve  Thee  so  !     Thou  couldst  have  kept ; 

My  fall  was  not  the  failure  of  Thy  word. 
Thy  promise  hath  no  flaw,  no  dire  '  except,' 

To  neutralize  the  grace  so  royally  conferred. 


THE  OPENED  FOUNTAIN.  68$ 


IV. 


Oh  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  sin  ! 

Tenfold  exceeding  in  the  love-lit  light 
Of  Thy  sufficient  grace,  without,  within, 

Enough  for  every  need,  in  never-conquered  might  I 


V. 


With  all  the  shame,  with  all  the  keen  distress, 
Quick,  '  waiting  not,'  I  flee  to  Thee  again ; 

Close  to  the  wound,  belovbd  Lord,  I  press, 

That  Thine  own  precious  blood  may  overflow  the  stain. 


VI. 


O  precious  blood  !  Lord,  let  it  rest  on  me  ! 

I  ask  not  only  pardon  from  my  King, 
But  cleansing  from  my  Priest.     I  come  to  Thee 

Just  as  I  came  at  first, — a  sinful,  helpless  thing. 


VII. 


Oh,  cleanse  me  now  !     My  Lord,  I  cannot  stay 
For  evening  shadows  and  a  silent  hour : 

Noici  I  have  sinned,  and  now,  with  no  delay, 
I  claim  Thy  promise  and  its  total  power. 


VIII. 


O  Saviour,  bid  me  *go  and  sin  no  more,' 
And  keep  me  always  'neath  the  mighty  flow 

Of  Thy  perpetual  fountain  ;  I  implore 

That  Thy  perpetual  cleansing  I  may  fully  know. 


686  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


XTbe  precious  JSloot)  of  5esus» 
I. 

Precious,  precious  blood  of  Jesus, 

Shed  on  Calvary ; 
Shed  for  rebels,  shed  for  sinners, 

Shed  for  me. 

11. 

Precious  blood,  that  hath  redeemed  us  I 

All  the  price  is  paid ; 
Perfect  pardon  now  is  offered, 

Peace  is  made. 

III. 

Precious,  precious  blood  of  Jesus, 
Let  it  make  thee  whole ; 

Let  it  flow  in  mighty  cleansing 
O'er  thy  soul. 

IV. 

Though  thy  sins  are  red  like  crimson^ 

Deep  in  scarlet  glow, 
Jesu's  precious  blood  can  make  them 

White  as  snow. 


Now  the  holiest  with  boldness 
We  may  enter  in. 

For  the  open  fountain  cleanseth 
From  all  sin. 


/  REMEMBER  THEE.  68  7 


VI. 


Precious  blood  !  by  this  we  conquer 

In  the  fiercest  fight, 
Sin  and  Satan  overcoming 

By  its  might. 


VII. 


Precious,  precious  blood  of  Jesus, 
Ever  flowing  firee  ! 

O  believe  it,  O  receive  it, 
'T is  for  thee! 


VIII. 


Precious  blood,  whose  full  atonement 
Makes  us  nigh  to  God  ! 

Precious  blood,  our  song  of  glory, 
Praise  and  laud ! 


5  IRemember  Ubee. 

'Thus  saith  the  Lord,  I  remember  thee,  the  kindness  of  thy  youth, 
the  love  of  thine  espousals.'— J er.  ii.  2. 

I. 

My  Lord,  dost  Thou  indeed  remember  me, 
Just  me,  the  least  and  last  ? 
With  all  the  names  of  Thy  redeemed, 
And  all  Thy  angels,  has  it  seemed 


688  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


As  though  my  name  might  perhaps  be  overpassed  j 
Yet  here  I  find  Thy  word  of  tenderest  grace, 
True  for  this  moment,  perfect  for  my  case, — 
*Thus  saith  Jehovah,  I  remember  thee!' 


II. 

My  Lord,  dost  Thou  remember  thts  of  me, 
The  kindness  of  my  youth  ? — 
The  tremulous  gleams  of  early  days, 
The  first  faint  thrills  of  love  and  praise, 
Vibrating  fitfully  ?     Not  much,  in  truth, 
Can  I  bring  back  at  memory's  wondering  call ; 
Yet  Thou,  my  faithful  Lord,  rememberest  all, — 
*  Thus  saith  Jehovah,  I  remember  thee  ! ' 


III. 

My  Lord,  dost  Thou  remember  this  of  me, 
My  love,  so  poor,  so  cold  ? 

Oh,  if  I  had  but  loved  Thee  more ! 

Yet  Thou  hast  pardoned.     Let  me  pour 
My  life's  best  wine  for  Thee,  my  heart's  best  gold 
(Worthless,  yet  all  I  have),  for  very  shame 
That  Thou  shouldst  tell  me,  calling  me  by  name,- 
'Thus  saith  Jehovah,  I  remember  thee  V 


IV. 

My  Lord,  dost  Thou  remember  this  of  me, 
The  day  of  Thine  own  power? 


I  REMEMBER  THEE.  689 

The  love  of  mine  espousals  sweet, 

The  laying  wholly  at  Thy  feet 
Of  heart  and  life,  in  that  glad,  willing  hour  ? 
That  love  was  Thine — I  gave  Thee  but  Thine  own, 
And  yet  the  Voice  falls  from  the  emerald  throne, — 
'  Thus  saith  Jehovah,  I  remember  thee ! ' 


V. 


My  Lord,  dost  Thou  remember  this  of  me  ? 
Forgetting  every  fall. 
Forgetting  all  the  treacherous  days. 
Forgetting  all  the  wandering  ways. 
With  fulness  of  forgiveness  covering  all ; 
Casting  these  memories,  a  hideous  store, 
Into  the  crimson  sea,  for  evermore, 
And  only  saying,  '  I  remember  thee  ! ' 


VI. 


My  Lord,  art  Thou  indeed  remembering  me  ? 
Then  let  me  not  forget ! 
Oh,  be  Thy  kindness  all  the  way. 
Thy  everlasting  love  to-day, 
In  sweet  perpetual  remembrance  set 
Before  my  view,  to  fill  my  marvelling  gaze, 
And  stir  my  love,  and  lift  my  life  to  praise, 
Because  Thou  sayest,  '  I  remember  thee ! ' 

2  X 


690  LOYAL  J?ESFONSES. 


fknowiwQ. 
I. 

I  KNOW  the  crimson  stain  of  sin, 

Defiling  all  without,  within ; 

But  now  rejoicingly  I  know 

That  He  has  washed  me  white  as  snow. 

I  praise  Him  for  the  cleansing  tide, 

Because  I  know  that  Jesus  died. 

II. 

I  know  the  helpless,  hopeless  plaint, 

'  The  whole  head  sick,  the  whole  heart  faint ; ' 

But  now  I  trust  His  touch  of  grace, 

That  meets  so  perfectly  my  case, 

So  tenderly,  so  truly  deals  ; 

Because  I  know  that  Jesus  heals. 

III. 

I  know  the  pang  of  forfeit  breath. 
When  life  in  sin  was  life  in  death ; 
But  now  I  know  His  life  is  mine, 
And  nothing  shall  that  cord  untwine, 
Rejoicing  in  the  life  He  gives, 
Because  I  know  that  Jesus  lives. 

IV. 

I  know  how  anxious  thought  can  press, 
I  know  the  weight  of  carefulness ; 


KNOWING.  691 


But  now  I  know  the  sweet  reward 
Of  casting  all  upon  my  Lord, 
No  longer  bearing  what  He  bears, 
Because  I  know  that  Jesus  cares. 


V. 

I  know  the  sorrow  that  is  known 

To  the  tear-burdened  heart  alone ; 

But  now  I  know  its  full  relief 

Through  Him  who  was  acquaint  with  grief 

And  peace  through  every  trial  flows. 

Because  I  know  that  Jesus  knows. 


VI. 

I  know  the  gloom  amid  the  mirth, 
The  longing  for  the  love  of  earth ; 
But  now  I  know  the  Love  that  fills, 
That  gladdens,  blesses,  crowns,  and  stills, 
That  nothing  mars  and  nothing  moves, — 
I  know,  I  know  that  Jesus  loves. 


VII. 

I  know  the  shrinking  and  the  fear. 
When  all  seems  wrong,  and  nothing  clear ; 
But  now  I  gaze  upon  His  throne, 
And  faith  sees  all  His  foes  o'erthrown, 
And  I  can  wait  till  He  explains. 
Because  I  know  that  Jesus  reigns. 


692  LOYAL  HESFONSES. 


tTrustfiiQ  5e5us. 


I. 


I  AM  trusting  Thee,  Lord  Jesus, 

Trusting  only  Thee ; 
Trusting  Thee  for  full  salvation, 
Great  and  free. 


II. 


I  am  trusting  Thee  for  pardon ; 

At  Thy  feet  I  bow, 
For  Thy  grace  and  tender  mercy, 
Trusting  now. 


Ill, 

I  am  trusting  Thee  for  cleansing 

In  the  crimson  flood; 
Trusting  Thee  to  make  me  holy 
By  Thy  blood. 


IV. 

I  am  trusting  Thee  to  guide  me ; 

Thou  alone  shalt  lead  ! 
Every  day  and  hour  supplying 
All  my  need. 


LOOKING  UNTO  JESUS.  693 


I  am  trusting  Thee  for  power ; 

Thine  can  never  fail ! 
Words  which  Thou  ThyseU'  shalt  give  me, 
Must  prevail. 

VI 

I  am  trusting  Thee,  Lord  Jesus  : 

Never  let  me  fall ! 
I  am  trusting  Thee  for  ever, 
And  for  all. 


Xoofting  unto  3esus. 


Looking  unto  Jesus ! 

Battle-shout  of  faith, 
Shield  o'er  all  the  armour, 

Free  from  scar  or  scathe. 
Standard  of  salvation, 

In  our  hearts  unfurled. 
Let  its  elevation 

Overcome  the  world  ! 

II. 

Look  away  to  Jesus, 
Look  away  from  all ; 

Then  we  need  not  stumble, 
Then  we  shall  not  fall. 


694  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 

From  each  snare  that  lureth, 
Foe  or  phantom  grim, 

Safety  this  ensureth  : 
Look  away  to  Him. 

III. 

Looking  into  Jesus, 

Wonderingly  we  trace 
Heights  of  power  and  glory, 

Depths  of  love  and  grace. 
Vistas  far  unfolding 

Ever  stretch  before, 
As  we  gaze,  beholding 

Ever  more  and  more. 

IV. 

Looking  up  to  Jesus, 

On  the  emerald  throne ! 
Faith  shall  pierce  the  heaven"? 

Where  our  King  is  gone. 
Lord,  on  Thee  depending, 

Now,  continually. 
Heart  and  mind  ascending, 

Let  us  dwell  with  Thee. 


Sbfnfng. 
I. 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one  ? 

You  have  given  your  heart  to  Him ; 
But  is  the  light  strong  within  it, 

Or  is  it  but  pale  and  dim  ? 


SHINmC.  695 


Can  everybody  see  it, — 

That  Jesus  is  all  to  you  ? 
That  your  love  to  Him  is  burning 

With  radiance  warm  and  true  ? 
Is  the  seal  upon  your  forehead, 

So  that  it  rrnist  be  known 
That  you  are  '  all  for  Jesus/ — 

That  your  heart  is  all  His  own  ? 

11. 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one  ? 

You  remember  the  first  sweet  ray, 
When  the  sun  arose  upon  you 

And  brought  the  gladsome  day ; 
When  you  heard  the  gospel  message, 

And  Jesus  Himself  drew  near, 
And  helped  you  to  trust  Him  simply, 

And  took  away  your  fear  ; 
When  the  darkness  amd  the  shadows 

Fled  like  a  weary  night. 
And  you  felt  that  you  could  praise  Him, 

And  everything  seemed  bright. 

III. 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one, 

So  that  the  holy  light 
May  enter  the  hearts  of  others, 

And  make  them  glad  and  bright  ? 
Have  you  spoken  a  word  for  Jesus, 

And  told  to  some  around. 
Who  do  not  care  about  Him, 

What  a  Saviour  you  have  found  ? 


696  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 

Have  you  lifted  the  lamp  for  others, 
That  has  guided  your  own  glad  feet  ? 

Have  you  echoed  the  loving  message, 
That  seemed  to  you  so  sweet  ? 

IV. 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one, — 

Shining  for  Him  all  day. 
Letting  the  light  burn  always 

Along  the  varied  way  ? 
Always, — when  those  beside  you 

Are  walking  in  the  dark  ? 
Ah>ays, — when  no  one  is  helping, 

Or  heeding  your  tiny  spark  ? 
Not  idly  letting  it  flicker 

In  every  passing  breeze 
Of  pleasure  or  temptation, 

Of  trouble  or  of  ease  ? 

V. 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one, — - 

Shining  just  everywhere, 
Not  only  in  easy  places, 

Not  only  just  here  or  there  ? 
Shining  in  happy  gatherings, 

Where  all  are  loved  and  known  ? 
Shining  where  all  are  strangers? 

Shining  when  quite  alone  ? 
Shining  at  home,  and  making 

True  sunshine  all  around  ? 
Shining  abroad,  and  faithful — 

Perhaps  among  faithless — found  ? 


SHINING.  697 


VI. 


Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one, 

Not  for  yourself  at  all  ? 
Not  because  dear  ones,  watching, 

Would  grieve  if  your  lamp  should  fall  ? 
Shining  because  you  are  walking 

In  the  Sun's  unclouded  rays. 
And  you  cannot  help  reflecting 

The  light  on  which  you  gaze? 
Shineth  because  it  shineth 

So  warm  and  bright  above. 
That  you  must  let  out  the  gladness, 

And  you  must  show  forth  the  love  ? 


VII. 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one  ? 

Or  is  there  a  little  sigh 
That  the  lamp  His  love  had  lighted 

Does  not  burn  clear  and  high  ? 
Is  the  heavenly  crown  that  waits  you, 

Still,  still  without  a  star, 
Because  your  light  was  hidden. 

And  sent  no  rays  afar? 
Do  you  feel  you  have  not  loved  Him 

With  a  love  right  brave  and  loyal, 
But  have  faintly  fought  and  followed 

His  banner  bright  and  royal  ? 


698  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


VIII. 

Oh,  come  again  to  Jesus  ! 

Come  as  you  came  at  first, 
And  tell  Him  all  that  hinders, 

And  tell  Him  all  the  worst ; 
And  take  His  sweet  forgiveness 

As  you  took  it  once  before, 
And  hear  His  kind  voice  saying, 

'  Peace  !  go,  and  sin  no  more  ! ' 
Then  ask  for  grace  and  courage 

His  name  to  glorify, 
That  never  more  His  precious  light 

Your  dimness  may  deny. 


IX. 

Then  rise,  and,  '  watching  daily,' 

Ask  Him  your  lamp  to  trim 
With  the  fresh  oil  He  giveth. 

That  it  may  not  burn  dim. 
Yes,  rise  and  shine  for  Jesus  ! 

Be  brave,  and  bright,  and  true 
To  the  true  and  loving  Saviour, 

Who  gave  Himself  for  you. 
Oh,  shine  for  Jesus,  dear  one, 

And  henceforth  be  your  way 
Bright  with  the  light  that  shineth 

Unto  the  perfect  day  ! 


GROWING.  699 


GrowiUQ, 


Unto  him  that  hath,  Thou  givest 

Ever  '  more  abundantly.' 
Lord,  I  Uve  because  Thou  Uvest, 

Therefore  give  more  Hfe  to  me ; 
Therefore  speed  me  in  the  race ; 
Therefore  let  me  grow  in  grace. 

II. 

Deepen  all  Thy  work,  O  Master, 
Strengthen  every  downward  root, 

Only  do  Thou  ripen  faster, 

More  and  more,  Thy  pleasant  fruit. 

Purge  me,  prune  me,  self  abase, 

Only  let  me  grow  in  grace. 

III. 

Jesus,  grace  for  grace  outpouring, 
Show  me  ever  greater  things ; 

Raise  me  higher,  sunward  soaring, 
Mounting  as  on  eagle-wings. 

By  the  brightness  of  Thy  face, 
Jesus,  let  me  grow  in  grace. 

IV. 

Let  me  grow  by  sun  and  shower. 
Every  moment  water  me ; 


700  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 

Make  me  really  hour  by  hour 

More  and  more  conformed  to  Thee, 
That  Thy  loving  eye  may  trace, 
Day  by  day,  my  growth  in  grace. 


Let  me  then  be  always  growing, 
Never,  never  standing  still ; 

Listening,  learning,  better  knowing 
Thee  and  Thy  most  blessed  will. 

Till  I  reach  Thy  holy  place, 

Daily  let  me  grow  in  grace. 


IRestfng* 

'  This  is  the  rest  wherewith  ye  may  cause  the  weary  to  rest ;  and 
this  is  the  refreshing.' — ISA.  xxviii.  12. 


I. 

Resting  on  the  faithfulness  of  Christ  our  Lord ; 
Resting  on  the  fulness  of  His  own  sure  word  ; 
Resting  on  His  power,  on  His  love  untold ; 
Resting  on  His  covenant  secured  of  old. 

II. 

Resting  'neath  His  guiding  hand  for  untracked  days  ; 
Resting  'neath  His  shadow  from  the  noontide  rays ; 
Resting  at  the  eventide  beneath  His  wing. 
In  the  fair  pavilion  of  our  Saviour  King. 


FILLING.  70  £ 


III. 


Resting  in  the  fortress  while  the  foe  is  nigh ; 
Resting  in  the  lifeboat  while  the  waves  roll  high ; 
Resting  in  His  chariot  for  the  swift  glad  race ; 
Resting,  always  resting  in  His  boundless  grace. 


IV. 


Resting  in  the  pastures,  and  beneath  the  Rock ; 
Resting  by  the  waters  where  He  leads  His  flock ; 
Resting,  while  we  listen,  at  His  glorious  feet ; 
Resting  in  His  very  arms  ! — O  rest  complete  1 


Resting  and  believing,  let  us  onward  press, 
Resting  in  Himself,  the  Lord  our  Righteousness  j 
Resting  and  rejoicing,  let  His  saved  ones  sing, 
Glory,  glory,  glory  be  to  Christ  our  King ! 


•  Filled  with  all  the  fulness  of  God.'— Eph.  iii.  19. 
I. 

Holy  Father,  Thou  hast  spoken 

Words  beyond  our  grasp  of  thought, — 

Words  of  grace  and  power  unbroken, 
With  mysterious  glory  fraught. 


702  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


II. 

Promise  and  command  combining, 
Doubt  to  chase  and  faith  to  lift  j 

Self  renouncing,  all  resigning, 
We  would  claim  this  mighty  gift. 

III. 

Take  us,  Lord,  oh,  take  us  truly, 
Mind  and  soul  and  heart  and  will  r 

Empty  us  and  cleanse  us  throughly, 
Then  with  all  Thy  fulness  fill 

IV. 

Lord,  we  ask  it,  hardly  knowing 
What  this  wondrous  gift  may  be ; 

But  fulfil  to  overflowing, — 
Thy  great  meaning  let  us  see. 

V. 

Make  us  in  Thy  royal  palace 
Vessels  worthy  for  the  King ; 

From  Thy  fulness  fill  our  chalice, 
From  Thy  never-failing  spring. 

VI, 

Father,  by  this  blessed  filling, 
Dwell  Thyself  in  us,  we  pray ; 

We  are  waiting.  Thou  art  willing, 
Fill  us  with  Thyself  to-day  ! 


INCREASE  OUR  FAITH.  7^3 


increase  our  jfaitb. 

'Lord,  increase  our  faith.' — Luke  xvii.  5. 


Increase  our  faith,  beloved  Lord  ! 

For  Thou  alone  canst  give 
The  faith  that  takes  Thee  at  Thy  word, 

The  faith  by  which  we  Hve. 


II. 

Increase  our  faith !     So  weak  are  we, 
That  we  both  niay  and  must 

Commit  our  very  faith  to  Thee, 
Entrust  to  Thee  our  trust. 


III. 

Increase  our  faith  !  for  there  is  yet 
Much  land  to  be  possessed ; 

And  by  no  other  strength  we  get 
Our  heritage  of  rest. 


IV. 

Increase  our  faith  !     On  this  broad  shield 

'  AlV  fiery  darts  be  caught ; 
We  must  be  victors  in  the  field 

Where  Thou  for  us  hast  fought 


704  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


Increase  our  faith,  that  we  may  claim 

Each  starry  promise  sure, 
And  always  triumph  in  Thy  name, 

And  to  the  end  endure. 

VI. 

Increase  our  faith,  O  Lord,  we  pray, 

That  we  may  not  depart 
From  Thy  commands,  but  all  obey 

With  free  and  loyal  heart. 

VII. 

Increase  our  faith — increase  it  still — 
From  heavenward  hour  to  hour, 

And  in  us  gloriously  '  fulfil 
The  work  of  faith  with  power.' 

VIII. 

Increase  our  faith,  that  never  dim 

Or  trembling  it  may  be. 
Crowned  with  the  '  perfect  peace '  of  him 

'  Whose  mind  is  stayed  on  Thee.' 

IX. 

Increase  our  faith,  for  Thou  hast  praycJ 

That  it  should  never  fail ; 
Our  stedfast  anchorage  is  made 

With  Thee,  within  the  veil. 


' NOBOD Y  KNOWS  BUT  JESUS.'  70S 


Increase  our  faith,  that  unto  Thee 
More  fruit  may  still  abound ; 

That  it  may  grow  *  exceedingly,' 
And  to  Thy  praise  be  found. 


XI. 


Increase  our  faith,  O  Saviour  dear. 
By  Thy  sweet  sovereign  grace, 

Tillj  changing  faith  for  vision  clear, 
We  see  Thee  face  to  face ! 


'Bobobg  Iknows  but  3esus. 


•Nobody  knows  but  Jesus  1' 
'T  is  only  the  old  refrain 

Of  a  quaint,  pathetic  slave-song, 
But  it  comes  again  and  again. 

II. 

I  only  heard  it  quoted, 

And  I  do  not  know  the  rest ; 
But  the  music  of  the  message 

Was  wonderfully  blessed. 

2  Y 


7c6  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


III. 


For  it  fell  upon  my  spirit 
Like  sweetest  twilight  psalm, 

WTien  the  breezy  sunset  waters 
Die  into  starry  calm. 


IV. 


'  Nobody  knows  but  Jesus  ! ' 

Is  it  not  better  so, 
That  no  one  else  but  Jesus, 

My  own  dear  Lord,  should  know  ? 


When  the  sorrow  is  a  secret 
Between  my  Lord  and  me, 

I  learn  the  fuller  measure 
Of  His  quick  sjTiipathy. 

VI. 

Whether  it  be  so  heavy, 

That  dear  ones  could  not  bear 
To  know  the  bitter  burden 

They  could  not  come  and  share ; 

VII. 

Whether  it  be  so  tiny, 
That  others  could  not  see 

Why  it  should  be  a  trouble. 
And  seem  so  real  to  me : 


'  NOBOD  Y  KNO  WS  BUT  JESUS:  707 


^^II. 


Either  and  both,  I  lay  them 
Down  at  my  Masters  feet. 

And  find  them,  alone  with  Jesus, 
Mysteriously  sweet 


IX. 


Sweet,  for  they  bring  me  closer 
To  the  dearest,  truest  Friend ; 

Sweet,  for  He  comes  the  nearer. 
As  'neath  the  cross  I  bend ; 


X. 


Sweet,  for  they  are  the  channels 
Through  which  His  teachings  flow : 

Sweet,  for  by  these  dark  secrets 
His  heart  of  love  I  know. 


XI. 


'  Nobody  knows  but  Jesus ! ' 
It  is  music  for  to-day, 

And  through  the  darkest  hours 
It  will  chime  along  the  way. 


XII. 

'  Nobody  knows  but  Jesus  ! ' 
My  Lord,  I  bless  Thee  now 

For  the  sacred  gift  of  sorrow 
That  no  one  knows  but  Thou. 


7o8  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


1be  is  Vari  2.ffc, 
I. 

Jesus,  Thy  life  is  mine  1 
Dwell  evermore  in  me ; 

And  let  me  see 
That  nothing  can  untwine 

My  life  from  Thine. 

II. 

Thy  life  in  me  be  shown ! 
Lord,  I  would  henceforth  seek 

To  think  and  speak 
Thy  thoughts.  Thy  words  alont 

No  more  my  own. 

III. 


Thy  love,  Thy  joy.  Thy  peace,  j 

Continuously  impart  ^ 

Unto  my  heart ; 
Fresh  springs,  that  never  cease. 

But  still  increase. 


IV. 

The  blest  reality 

Of  resurrection  power, 

Thy  Church's  dower, 
Life  more  abundantly, 

Lord,  give  to  ine  I 


ENOUGH.  709 


V. 

Thy  fullest  gift,  O  Lord, 
Now  at  Thy  feet  I  claim, 

Through  Thy  dear  name  I 
And  touch  the  rapturous  chord 

Of  praise  forth  poured. 

VL 

Jesus,  my  life  is  Thine, 
And  evermore  shall  be 

Hidden  in  Thee ! 
For  nothing  can  untwine 

Thy  life  from  mine. 


EnouGb. 
I. 

I  AM  so  weak,  dear  Lord,  I  cannot  stand 

One  moment  without  Thee ! 
But  oh  !  the  tenderness  of  Thine  enfolding, 
And  oh  !  the  faithfulness  of  Thine  upholding, 
And  oh  !  the  strength  of  Thy  right  hand  I 

That  strength  is  enough  for  me  1 

II. 

I  am  so  needy,  Lord,  and  yet  I  know 
All  fulness  dwells  in  Thee ; 


710  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


And  hour  by  hour  that  never-faiHng  treasure 
Supplies  and  fills,  in  overflowing  measure, 
My  least,  my  greatest  need  ;  and  so 
Thy  grace  is  enough  for  me  I 


III. 

It  is  so  sweet  to  trust  Thy  word  alone : 

I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  unveiling  of  Thy  purpose,  or  the  shining 
Of  future  light  on  mysteries  untwining  : 
Thy  promise-roll  is  all  my  own, — 

Thy  word  is  enough  for  me  I 

IV. 

The  human  heart  asks  love ;  but  now  I  know 

That  my  heart  hath  from  Thee 
All  real,  and  full,  and  marvellous  affection, 
So  near,  so  human ;  yet  divine  perfection 
Thrills  gloriously  the  mighty  glow  ! 
Thy  love  is  enough  for  me  ! 


There  were   strange  soul-depths,  restless,  vast,  and 
broad, 

Unfathomed  as  the  sea ; 
An  infinite  craving  for  some  infinite  stilling  j 
But  now  Thy  perfect  love  is  perfect  filling ! 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  my  Lord,  my  God, 

Thou,  Thou  art  enough  for  me  ! 


ALL.  711 


au. 


I. 


God's  reiterated  *  all  ! ' 

O  wondrous  word  of  peace  and  power ! 
Touching  with  its  tuneful  fall 

The  rising  of  each  hidden  hour, 

All  the  day. 

II. 

Only  all  His  word  believe, 

All  peace  and  joy  your  heart  shall  fill, 
All  things  asked  ye  shall  receive  : 

This  is  Thy  Father's  word  and  will, 

For  to-day. 

III. 

•  All  I  have  is  thine,'  saith  He. 

'  All  things  are  yours,'  He  saith  again ; 
All  the  promises  for  thee 

Are  sealed  with  Jesus  Christ'3  Amen, 

For  to-day. 

IV. 

He  shall  all  your  need  supply, 

And  He  will  make  all  grace  abound , 

Always  all  sufiEiciency 

In  Him  for  a// things  shall  be  found, 

For  to-day. 


712  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


V. 


All  His  work  He  shall  fulfil, 

All  the  good  pleasure  of  His  will, 

Keeping  thee  in  all  thy  ways, 

And  with  thee  always,  '  all  the  days/ 

And  to-day  I 


©nlg» 
I. 

Only  a  mortal's  powers, 

Weak  at  their  fullest  strength  \ 
Only  a  few  swift-flashing  hours, 

Short  at  their  fullest  length. 

IL 

Only  a  page  for  the  eye. 
Only  a  word  for  the  ear, 

Only  a  smile,  and  by  and  by 
Only  a  quiet  tear. 

III. 


Only  one  heart  to  give, 
Only  one  voice  to  use ; 

Only  one  little  Ufe  to  live. 
And  only  one  to  lose. 


ONLY.  713 


IV. 


Poor  is  my  best,  and  small : 
How  could  I  dare  divide  ? 

Surely  my  Lord  shall  have  it  all, 
He  shall  not  be  denied  I 


V. 


All !  for  far  more  I  owe 
Than  all  I  have  to  bring ; 

All !  for  my  Saviour  loves  me  so  I 
All !  for  I  love  my  King  1 


VI. 


All !  for  it  is  His  own, 
He  gave  the  tiny  store ; 

All !  for  it  must  be  His  alone  \ 
All  1  for  I  have  no  more. 


VII. 


All !  for  the  last  and  least 

He  stoopeth  to  uplift : 
The  altar  of  my  great  High  Priest 

Shall  sanctify  my  gift. 


714  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


/IDs  /IDaster. 

*  I  love  my  master  ;  .  .  .   I  will  not  go  out  free.     And  he  shall 
serve  him  for  ever.' — Ex.  xxi.  5,  6. 


I  LOVE,  I  love  my  Master, 
I  will  not  go  out  free, 

For  He  is  my  Redeemer, 
He  paid  the  price  for  me. 


II. 


I  would  not  leave  His  service. 
It  is  so  sweet  and  blest ; 

And  in  the  weariest  moments 
He  gives  the  truest  rest. 


HI. 


I  would  not  halve  my  service:, 
His  only  it  must  be, — 

His  o?!ly,  who  so  loved  me 
And  gave  Himself  for  me. 


IV. 


Isly  Master  shed  His  life-blood 

My  vassal  life  to  win, 
And  save  me  from  the  bondage 

Of  tyrant  self  and  sin. 


AIY  MASTER.  715 


He  chose  me  for  His  service, 
And  gave  me  power  to  choose 

That  blessed,  '  perfect  freedom  * 
Which  I  shall  never  lose  : 


VI. 


For  He  hath  met  my  longins: 
With  word  of  golden  tone, 

That  I  shall  serve  for  ever 
Himself,  Himself  alone. 


VIL 


'Shall  serve  Him '  hour  by  hour, 
For  He  will  show  me  how; 

My  Master  is  fulfilling 
His  promise  even  now  1 


VIII. 


'Shall  serve  Him,'  and  'for  ever;' 
O  hope  most  sure,  most  fair ! 

The  perfect  love  outpouring 
in  perfect  service  there  i 


7r6  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


IX. 


Rejoicing  and  adoring, 

Henceforth  my  song  shall  be ; 
I  love,  I  love  my  Master, 

I  will  not  go  out  free  1 


Ipertect  ipeace* 

IN   ILLNESS. 
I. 

Like  a  river  glorious 

Is  God's  perfect  peace, 
Over  all  victorious 

In  its  bright  increase. 
Perfect — yet  it  floweth 

Fuller  every  day ; 
Perfect — yet  it  groweth 
Deeper  all  the  way. 
Chorus.  Stayed  upon  Jehovah, 
Hearts  are  fully  blest, 
Finding,  as  He  promised. 
Perfect  peace  and  rest. 

II. 

Hidden  in  the  hollow 

Of  His  blessbd  hand. 
Never  foe  can  follow. 

Never  traitor  stand. 


'/AM  WITH  THEE. '  717 


Not  a  surge  of  worry, 

Not  a  shade  of  care, 
Not  a  blast  of  hurry 
Touch  the  spirit  there. 
Chorus.  Stayed  upon  Jehovah, 
Hearts  are  fully  blest, 
Finding,  as  He  promised, 
Perfect  peace  and  rest. 

III. 

Every  joy  or  trial 

Falleth  from  above, 
Traced  upon  our  dial 

By  the  Sun  of  Love. 
We  may  trust  Him  solely 

All  for  us  to  do ; 
They  who  trust  Him  wholly, 
Find  Him  wholly  true. 
Chorus.  Stayed  upon  Jehovah, 
Hearts  are  fully  blest. 
Finding,  as  He  promised, 
Perfect  peace  and  rest. 


*5  am  wttb  Ubeel' 


*I  am  with  thee !'     He  hath  said  it 

In  His  truth  and  tender  grace ; 
Sealed  the  promise,  grandly  spoken, 
With  how  many  a  mighty  token 
Of  His  love  and  faithfulness. 


7i8  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


11. 

He  is  with  thee  ! — In  thy  dwelling, 

Shielding  thee  from  fear  of  ill ; 
All  thy  burdens  kindly  bearing, 
For  thy  dear  ones  gently  caring, 
Guarding,  keeping,  blessing  stilL 

HI. 

He  is  with  thee  ! — In  thy  service 
He  is  with  thee  '  certainly,' 

Filling  with  the  Spirit's  power, 

Giving  in  the  needing  hour 
His  own  messages  by  thee. 

IV. 

He  is  with  thee  ! — With  thy  spirit, 
With  thy  lips,  or  with  thy  pen ; 
In  the  quiet  preparation, 
In  the  heart-bowed  congregation, 
Nevermore  alone  again  1 

V. 

He  is  with  thee ! — With  thee  always. 

All  the  nights  and  all  the  days ; 
Never  failing,  never  frowning, 
With  His  loving-kindness  crowning, 
Tuning  all  thy  life  to  praise. 


TRUST  AND  DISTRUST.  719 


VI. 

He  is  with  thee  ! — Thine  ovnx  Master, 

Leading,  loving  to  the  end ; 
Brightening  joy  and  lightening  sorrow, 
All  to-day,  yet  more  to-morrow, 

King  and  Saviour,  Lord  and  Friend. 

VII. 

He  is  with  thee ! — Yes,  for  ever, 

Now,  and  through  eternity ; 
Then  with  Him  for  ever  dwelling. 
Thou  shalt  share  His  joy  excelling, 

Thou  with  Christ,  and  Christ  with  thee! 


XCrust  ant)  Distrust 
I. 

Distrust  thyself,  but  trust  His  grace ; 

It  is  enough  for  thee  ! 
In  every  trial  thou  shalt  trace 

Its  all-sufficiency. 

II. 

Distrust  thyself,  but  trust  His  strength ; 

In  Him  thou  shalt  be  strong : 
His  weakest  ones  may  learn  at  length 

A  daily  triumph-song. 


720  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


II. 


Distrust  thyself,  but  trust  His  love ; 

Rest  in  its  changeless  glow : 
And  life  or  death  shall  only  prove 

Its  everlasting  flow. 


IV. 


Distrust  thyself,  but  trust  alone 
In  Him,  for  all — for  ever ! 

And  joyously  thy  heart  shall  own 
That  Jesus  faileth  never. 


Mltbout  Carefulness, 

'I  would  have  you  without  carefulness. '— i  Cor.  vii.  32, 

I. 

Master  !  how  shall  I  bless  Thy  name 

For  Thy  tender  love  to  me, 
For  the  sweet  enablings  of  Thy  grace, 

So  sovereign,  yet  so  free. 
That  have  taught  me  to  obey  Thy  word 

And  cast  my  care  on  Thee  ! 

II. 

They  tell  of  weary  burdens  borne 

For  discipline  of  life. 
Of  long  anxieties  and  doubts, 

Of  struggle  and  of  strife, 
Of  a  path  of  dim  perplexities 

With  fears  and  shadows  rife. 


WITHOUT  CAREFULNESS.  721 


IIL 

Oh,  I  have  trod  that  weary  path, 

With  burdens  not  a  few, 
With  shadowy  faith  that  Thou  would'st  lead 

And  help  me  safely  through, 
Trying  to  follow  and  obey, 

And  bear  my  burdens  too. 


IV. 

Master !  dear  Master,  Thou  didst  speak, 

And  yet  I  did  not  hear, 
Or  long  ago  I  might  have  ceased 

From  every  care  and  fear. 
And  gone  rejoicing  on  my  way 

From  brightening  year  to  year. 


V. 

Just  now  and  then  some  steeper  slope 
Would  seem  so  hard  to  climb, 

That  I  must  cast  my  load  on  Thee  ; 
And  I  left  it  for  a  time, 

And  wondered  at  the  joy  at  heart, 
Like  sweetest  Christmas  chime. 


VI. 

A  step  or  two  on  wingbd  feet, 

And  then  I  turned  to  share 
2  z 


722  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 

The  burden  Thou  hadst  taken  up 

Of  ever-pressing  care ; 
So  what  I  would  not  leave  with  Thes 

Of  course  I  had  to  bear. 


VII. 

At  last  Thy  precious  precepts  fell 
On  opened  heart  and  ear, 

A  varied  and  repeated  strain 
I  could  not  choose  but  hear, 

Enlinking  promise  and  command, 
Like  harp  and  clarion  clear : 


VIII. 

*  No  anxious  thought  upon  thy  brow 
The  watching  world  should  see ; 

No  carefulness  !     O  child  of  God, 
For  nothing  careful  be  ! 

But  cast  thou  all  thy  care  on  Him 
Who  always  cares  for  thee.' 


IX. 

Did  not  Thy  loving  Spirit  come 
In  gentle,  gracious  shower, 

To  work  Thy  pleasure  in  my  soul 
In  that  bright,  blessed  hour, 

And  to  the  word  of  strong  command 
Add  faith  and  will  and  power? 


WITHOUT  CAREFULNESS.  723 


X. 

It  was  Thy  word,  it  was  Thy  will — 

That  was  enough  for  me  ! 
Henceforth  no  care  shall  dim  my  trust, 

For  all  is  cast  on  Thee ; 
Henceforth  my  inmost  heart  shall  praise 

The  grace  that  set  me  free. 


XI. 

And  now  I  find  Thy  promise  true. 
Of  perfect  peace  and  rest ; 

I  cannot  sigh — I  can  but  sing 
While  leaning  on  Thy  breast, 

And  leaving  everything  to  Thee, 
Whose  ways  are  always  best. 

XII. 

I  never  thought  it  could  be  thus,-~ 
Month  after  month  to  know 

The  river  of  Thy  peace  without 
One  ripple  in  its  flow ; 

Without  one  quiver  in  the  trust, 
One  flicker  in  its  glow. 

XIII. 

Oh,  Thou  hast  done  far  more  for  me 
Than  I  had  asked  or  ihoughi  1 


724  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


I  stand  and  marvel  to  behold 
What  Thou,  my  Lord,  hast  wrought, 

And  wonder  what  glad  lessons  yet 
I  shall  be  daily  taught. 


XIV, 

How  shall  I  praise  Thee,  Saviour  dear, 

For  this  new  life  so  sweet, 
For  taking  all  the  care  I  laid 

At  Thy  beloved  feet. 
Keeping  Thy  hand  upon  my  heart 

To  still  each  anxious  beat ! 


XV. 

I  want  to  praise,  with  life  renewed, 

As  I  never  praised  before ; 
With  voice  and  pen,  with  song  and  speech, 

To  praise  Thee  more  and  more. 
And  the  gladness  and  the  gratituae 

Rejoicingly  outpour. 

XVI. 

I  long  to  praise  Thee  more,  and  yet 

This  is  no  care  to  me  : 
If  Thou  shalt  fill  my  mouth  with  songs, 

Then  I  will  sing  to  Thee  ; 
And  if  my  silence  praise  Thee  best, 

Then  silent  I  will  be. 


THY  REIGN.  725 


XVII. 

Yet  if  it  be  Thy  will,  dear  Lord, 

Oh,  send  me  forth,  to  be 
Thy  messenger  to  careful  hearts, 

To  bid  them  taste  and  see 
How  good  Thou  art  to  those  who  cast 

All,  all  their  care  on  Thee  1 


XTbi?  IRefon. 

'Righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost.'— Rom.  xiv.  17. 

I. 

Thy  reign  is  righteousness  ; 

Not  mine,  but  Thine  ! — 
A  covering  no  less 
Than  the  broad,  bright  waves  of  Thy  great  sea, 
That  roll  triumphantly 
From  line  to  pole,  and  pole  to  line ; 
A  reign  where  every  rebel  thought 

In  sweet  captivity 
To  Thine  obedience  is  brought. 

11. 

Thy  reign  is  perfect  peace ; 
Not  mine,  but  Thine  ! — 
A  stream  that  cannot  cease, 


726  LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


For  its  fountain  is  Thy  heart.     O  depth  unknown ! 

Thou  givest  of  Thine  own, 
Pouring  from  Thine  and  filHng  mine. 
The  *  noise  of  war '  hath  passed  away ; 

God's  peace  is  on  the  throne, 
Ruling  with  undisputed  sway. 


IIL 


Thy  reign  is  joy  divine ! 
Not  mine,  but  Thine, 
Or  else  not  any  joy  to  me ! 
For  a  joy  that  flowed  not  from  Thine  ovm, 
Since  Thou  hast  reigned  alone 
Were  vacancy  or  misery. 
O  sunshine  of  Thy  realm,  how  bright 

This  radiance  from  Thy  throne, 
Unspeakable  in  calmest  light  1 


IV. 


Thy  reign  shall  still  increase  ! 

I  claim  Thy  word, — 
Let  righteousness  and  peace 
And  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost  be  found, 
And  more  and  more  abound 
In  me,  through  Thee,  O  Christ  my  Lord  j 
Take  unto  Thee  Thy  power,  who  art 

My  Sovereign,  many-crowned  ! 
Stablish  Thy  kingdom  in  my  heart. 


TRIED,  PRECIOUS,  SURE.  727 

UrieD,  {precious,  Sure* 

'The  Same  yesterday,   and   to-day,   and  for  ever.' — Heb. 
xiii.  8. 

stone,  a  tried  stone,  a  prec 
foundation.' — Is  A.  xxviii.  i6. 


Jesus    J        xiii.  8. 

Chkist     \  'A  stone,  a  tried  stone,  a  precious  comer  stone,    a  sure 


I. 

Through  the  yesterday  of  ages, 
Jesus,  Thou  hast  been  The  Same  ; 

Through  our  own  life's  chequered  pages, 
Still  the  one  dear  changeless  name. 

Well  may  we  in  Thee  confide, 

Faithful  Saviour,  proved  and  '  tried  1 ' 

II. 

Joyfully  we  stand  and  witness 
Thou  art  still  to-day  The  Same  ; 

In  Thy  perfect,  giorious  fitness, 
Meeting  every  need  and  claim. 

Chiefest  of  ten  thousand  Thou  ! 

Saviour,  O  most  *  precious,'  now  ! 

III. 

• 
Gazing  down  the  far  for  ever. 

Brighter  glows  the  one  sweet  Name 
Stedfast  radiance,  paling  never, 

Jesus,  Jesus  !  still  The  Same. 
Evermore  '  Thou  shalt  endure,' 
Our  own  Saviour,  strong  and  'sure!' 


72S 


LOYAL  RESPONSES. 


5ust  wben  'JIbou  wilt' 


I. 


Just  when  Thou  wilt,  O  Master,  call ! 
Or  at  the  noon,  or  evening  fall, 
Or  in  the  dark,  or  in  the  light, — 
Just  when  Thou  wilt,  it  must  be  right. 


II. 


Just  when  Thou  wilt,  O  Saviour,  come, 
Take  me  to  dwell  in  Thy  bright  home  ! 
Or  when  the  snows  have  crowned  my  head, 
Or  ere  it  hath  one  silver  thread. 


III. 


Just  when  Thou  wilt,  0  Bridegroom,  say, 
*  Rise  up,  my  love,  and  come  away  ! 
Open  to  me  Thy  golden  gate 
Just  when  Thou  wilt,  or  soon,  or  late. 


IV. 

Just  when  Thou  wilt — Thy  time  is  best- 
Thou  shalt  appoint  my  hour  of  rest, 
Marked  by  the  Sun  of  perfect  love, 
Shining  unchangeably  above. 
^Dictated  in  illness. 


JUST  WHEN  THOU  WILT.  729 


Just  when  Thou  wilt ! — no  choice  for  me  ! 
Life  is  a  gift  to  use  for  Thee ; 
Death  is  a  hushed  and  glorious  tryst, 
With  Thee,  my  King,  my  Saviour,  Christ ! 


Verses  on  Texts. 


V31 


VERSES  ON  TEXTS.  733 


IDerses  on  Ztits. 

'  Be  quiet ;  fear  not." — ISA.  vii.  4, 

Thou  layest  Thy  hand  on  the  fluttering  heart, 

And  sayest,  '  Be  still ! ' 
The  silence  and  shadow  are  only  a  part 

Of  Thy  sweet  will. 
Thy  Presence  is  with  me,  and  where  Thou  art 

I  fear  no  ill. 


'  The  Lord  shall  open  unto  thee  His  good  treasure,  the  heaven  to  give 
the  rain  unto  thy  land  in  his  season,  and  to  bless  all  the  work  of  thine 
hand.' — Deut.  xxviii.  12. 

His  love  is  the  key  and  His  glory  the  measure 
Of  grace  all-abounding  and  knowledge  and  light : 

To  thee  shall  be  opened  this  infinite  treasure, 
To  thee,  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ. 


734  VERSES  ON  TEXTS. 


'  With  him  is  an  arm  of  flesh  ;  but  with  us  is  the  Lord  our  God  to  help 
us,  and  to  figlit  our  battles.  And  the  people  rested  themselves  upon  the 
words  of  Hezekiah  king  of  Judah.' — 2  Chron.  xxxii.  8. 

Upon  Thy  word  I  rest, 

So  strong,  so  sure ; 
So  full  of  comfort  blest, 
So  sweet,  so  pure. 
The  word  that  changeth  not,  that  faileth  never ! 
My  King !  I  rest  upon  Thy  word  for  ever. 


•  Rest  in  the  Lord  ("  Be  silent  to  the  Lord,"  margin),  and  wah  patiently 
for  Him.' — Ps.  xxxvii.  7. 

Rest,  and  be  silent !     For,  faithfully  listening, 
Patiently  waiting,  thine  eyes  shall  behold 

Pearls  in  the  waters  of  quietness  glistening. 
Treasures  of  promise  that  He  shall  unfold. 

Rest,  and  be  silent !  for  Jesus  is  here, 

Calming  and  stilling  each  ripple  of  fear. 


'Write  ye  also  for  the  Jews,  as  it  hketh  you,  in  the  king's  name,  and 
seal  it  with  the  king's  ring  :  for  the  writing  which  is  written  in  the  king's 
name,  and  sealed  with  the  king's  ring,  may  no  man  reverse.' — Esther 
viii.  8. 

For  He  hath  given  us  a  changeless  writing, 
Royal  decrees  that  light  and  gladness  bring ; 

Signed  with  His  name  in  glorious  inditing. 
Sealed  on  our  hearts  with  His  own  signet  ring. 


VERSES  ON  TEXTS.  735 


'  Casting  do\vn  imaginations,  and  every  high  thing  that  exalteth  itself 
against  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  bringing  into  captivity  every  thought 
to  the  obedience  of  Christ.' — 2  COR.  x.  5. 

Let  every  thought 

Be  captive  brought, 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to  Thine  own  sweet  obedience  ! 

That  I  may  know, 

In  ebbless  flow, 
The  perfect  peace  of  full  and  pure  allegiance. 


•Even  so.  Father  :  for  so  it  seemed  good  in  Thy  sight. '—Matt.  xi.  26. 

And  if  it  seemeth  good  to  Thee,  my  Father, 
Shall  it  seem  aught  but  good  to  me  ? 

Thy  will  be  done !     Thou  knowest  I  would  rather 
Leave  all  with  Thee. 


'  Moreover  also  I  gave  them  my  sabbaths,  to  be  a  sign  between  me  and 
them,  that  they  might  know  that  I  am  the  Lord  that  sanctify  them.  '— 
EZEK.  XX.  12. 

The  token  of  His  truth  and  care,  the  gift  that  He  hath 

blessed, 
The  pledge  of  our  inheritance,  the  earnest  of  His  rest ; 
The   diamond   hours   of    holy   light,    the   God-entrusted 

leisure  : 
Oh  for  a  heart  to  prize   aright  this   rich   and   heavenly 

treasure  1 


735  VERSES  ON  TEXTS. 


'  O  send  out  Thy  light  and  Thy  truth :  let  them  lead  me  ;  let  them 
bring  me  unto  Thy  holy  hill,  and  to  Thy  tabernacles.' — Ps.  xliii.  3. 

Thy  light  and  truth  forth-sending 
From  Thy  own  radiant  side, 
Be  Thou  our  Guard  and  Guide  ! 

On  Thee  alone  depending, 

No  darkness  can  affright ; 

Thy  shield  of  Truth  and  Light, 

Clear-flashing  through  the  night, 
Is  all-defending. 


'  The  Lord  taketh  pleasure  in  them  that  fear  Him,  in  those  that  hope  in 
His  mercy.' — Ps.  cxivii.  11, 

O  MYSTERY  of  graCC; 

That  chooseth  us  to  stand  before  Thy  face, 

To  be  Thy  '  special  treasure,' 
Thy  portion,  Thy  delight.  Thine  own ; 

That  taketh  pleasure 
In  them  that  fear  Thy  Name,  that  hope  alone 

In  Thy  sweet  mercy's  boundless  measure ! 


'  And  I  \Yill  make  of  thee  a  great  nation,  and  I  will  bless  thee,  and 
make  thy  name  great  ;  and  thou  shalt  be  a  blessing.' — Gen.  xii.  2. 

Thy  Spirit's  fulness  on  him  rest, 

Thy  love  his  sunshine  be, 
A.nd  may  he  still,  while  doubly  blest, 

A  blessing  be  from  Thee. 


VERSES  ON  TEXTS.  737 


Be  his  the  everlasting  name 
Inscribed  by  Thy  own  hand, 

That  he  the  promised  home  may  claim 
In  Thine  own  Holy  Land. 


'Enoch  walked  with  God:  and  he  was  not  ;  for  God  took  him.'- 
Gen,  v.  24. 

Oh  may'st  thou  walk  J  from  hour  to  hour 

Of  every  passing  year, 

Keeping  so  very  near 
To  Him  whose  power  is  love,  whose  love  is  power. 
So  may'st  thou  walk  !  in  His  clear  light, 

Leaning  on  Him  alone, 

Thy  life  His  very  own, 
Until  He  takes  thee  up  to  walk  with  Him  in  white. 


'  Therefore,  O  thou  son  of  man,  speak  unto  the  house  of  Israel ;  Thus 
ye  speak,  saying,  If  our  transgressions  and  our  sins  be  upon  us,  and  we 
pine  away  in  them,  how  should  we  then  live?' — Ezek.  xxxiii.  10. 

'All  we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray  ;  we  have  turned  every  one  to  his 
own  way  ;  and  the  Lord  hath  laid  on  Him  the  iniquity  of  us  i>ll.  '—ISA. 
liii.  6. 

On  Thee  the  Lord 

My  mighty  sins  hath  laid  ; 
And  against  Thee  Jehovah's  sword 

Flashed  forth  its  fiery  blade. 
The  stroke  of  justice  fell  on  Thee, 

That  it  migh^  never  fall  on  me. 
3  A 


738  VERSES  ON  TEXTS. 


•  And  thine  age  shall  be  clearer  than  the  noonday  ;  thou  shalt  shine 
forth,  thou  shalt  be  as  the  morning.  '—Job  xi.  17. 

Fear  not  the  westering  shadows, 

O  children  of  the  day  ! 
For  brighter  still  and  brighter 

Shall  be  your  homeward  way. 
Resplendent  as  the  morning, 

With  fuller  glow  and  power, 
And  clearer  than  the  noonday. 

Shall  be  your  sunset  hour. 


•  I  have  blotted  out,  as  a  thick  cloud,  thy  transgressions,  and,  as  a 
cloud,  thy  sins  :  return  unto  me ;  for  I  have  redeemed  thee. 

'  Sing,  O  ye  heavens  ;  for  the  Lord  hath  done  it :  shout,  ye  lower  parts 
of  the  earth  :  break  forth  into  singing,  ye  mountains,  O  forest,  and  every 
tree  therein :  for  the  Lord  hath  redeemed  Jacob,  and  glorified  Himself  in 
Israel." — ISA.  xliv.  22,  23. 

O  MOUNTAIN  heights,  break  forth  and  sing 

In  colour-music  fair  and  sweet ! 
O  forest  depths,  awake  and  bring 
Your  delicate  odours  to  His  feet. 
Sing,  for  the  Lord  hath  done  it ! 
Proclaim  Redemption,  for  He  won  it ! 
Let  Easter  hallelujahs  rise  from  every  living  thing ! 


•  Yea,  He  is  altogether  lovely. ' — Cant.  v.  16. 

There  is  One,  so  fair,  so  bright, 
So  good,  so  gracious  !     I.ove,  and  life,  and  Light, 


VERSES  ON  TEXTS.  739 

Are  His  rich  titles.     Oh,  for  Him  I  long, 
To  be  my  Hope,  my  Joy,  my  Strength,  my  Song ! 
Earth's  shadow  melts  in  conquering  light  away 
Before  the  rising  Daystar's  earliest  ray. 


•  Let  me  hear  Thy  voice  :  for  sweet  is  Thy  voice.' — Cant.  ii.  14, 

Hast  thou  not  heard  within  some  sacred  pile, 

When  hushed  the  swelling  choir,  through  vaulted  aisle 

A  sweet  low  echo  lingering  of  the  song, 

As  would  angelic  harps  the  sound  prolong? 

So  through  the  silent  chambers  of  my  soul, 

In  calmest  melody  His  sweet  words  roll. 


'Lay  hold  on  eternal  life,  whereunto  thou  art  also  called.' — i  Tim.  vi.  12, 

A  LIFE  is  before  thee  which  cannot  decay, 
A  glimpse  and  an  echo  are  given  to-day 
Of  glory  and  music  not  far  away. 
Take  the  bliss  that  is  offered  thee, 

And  thou  shalt  be 

Safe  and  blest  for  aye. 

H  Covenant 

Now,  Lord,  I  give  myself  to  Thee  ; 

I  would  be  wholly  Thine, 
As  Thou  hast  given  Thyself  to  me. 

And  Thou  art  wholly  mine. 
Oh,  take  me, — seal  me  as  Thine  own, 

Thine  altogether — Thine  alone  ! 


740  VERSES  ON  TEXTS. 


®nl^  tot  %cs\\5. 


Only  for  Jesus  !     Lord,  keep  it  for  ever 

Sealed  on  the  heart  and  engraved  on  the  Ufe ! 

Pulse  of  all  gladness  and  nerve  of  endeavour, 
Secret  of  rest,  and  the  strength  of  our  strife. 


Cbosen  Xessons, 

•  Him  shall  He  teach  in  the  way  that  He  shall  choose.'— Ps.  xxv.  i& 

In  the  way  that  He  shall  choose 

He  will  teach  us ; 
Not  a  lesson  we  shall  lose, 

All  shall  reach  us. 

Strange  and  difficult  indeed 

We  may  find  it. 
But  the  blessing  that  we  need 

Is  behind  it. 

All  the  lessons  He  shall  send 

Are  the  sweetest. 
And  His  training,  in  the  end, 

Is  completest. 

Ibitberto  auD  If^eucefortb* 

Hitherto  the  Lord  hath  helped  us, 

Guiding  all  the  way ; 
Henceforth  let  us  trust  Him  fully, 

Trust  Him  all  the  day. 


VERSES  ON  TEXTS.  74' 

Hitherto  the  Lord  hath  loved  us, 

Caring  for  His  own  ; 
Henceforth  let  us  love  Him  better, 

Live  for  Him  alone. 

Hitherto  the  Lord  hath  blessed  us. 

Crowning  all  our  days  ; 
Henceforth  let  us  live  to  bless  Him, 

Live  to  show  His  praise. 


TRb^incD  /iDottoes  for  tbe  /IDembcrs  ot  tbe 
©pen^Bir  /IDissioiu 

'  Occupy  till  I  come.' — Luke  xix.  13. 

'  Occupy  till  I  return  : ' 
Let  us,  Lord,  this  lesson  learn; 
May  our  every  moment  be 
Faithfully  filled  up  for  Thee. 


'  Be  not  far  from  me.' — Ps.  xxii.  ii. 

Be  not  far  from  me,  we  pray : 
*  I  am  with  thee  all  the  day ; ' 
This  Thy  answer,  strong  and  clear  ! 
Master,  Thou  art  always  near. 


742  VERSES  ON  TEXTS. 


•  He  is  faithful  that  promised. '—Heb.  x.  23. 

Thou  art  faithful ;  praise  Thy  name, 
Thou  art  evermore  the  same  ; 
Thou  hast  promised  ;  oh,  how  blest 
On  Thy  royal  word  to  rest ! 


•"He  that  winneth  souls  is  wise.'— Prov.  xi.  3a 

'  He  that  winneth  souls  is  wise ' 
In  the  Master's  gracious  eyes ; 
Well  may  we  contented  be 
To  be  counted  fools  for  Thee. 


•  Redeeming  the  time.' — COL,  iv.  5. 

So  may  we  redeem  the  time, 
That  with  every  evening  chime 
Our  rejoicing  hearts  may  see 
Blood-bought  souls  brought  back  to  Thee. 


•  Lay  up  His  words  in  thine  heart.'— Job  xxii.  23. 

Let  us,  by  Thy  Spirit  stirred, 
In  our  hearts  lay  up  Thy  word. 
Daily,  Lord,  increase  our  store. 
Fill  our  treasures  more  and  more. 


VERSES  ON  TEXTS.  743 


advent  Ubouobts. 

'  Behold,  the  Bridegroom  cometh  !  '—Matt,  xxv.  6. 

O  HERALD  whisper  falling 

Upon  the  passing  night, 
Mysteriously  calling 

The  Children  of  the  Light ! 

He  cometh  ;  oh,  He  cometh  ! 

Our  own  beloved  Lord  ! 
This  blessed  hope  up-summeth 

Our  undeserved  reward. 

He  cometh  !     Though  the  hour, 
Nor  earth  nor  heaven  may  know, 

Sure  is  the  word  of  power, 
'  He  cometh  ! '     Even  so  1 


'  Look  up,  an<l  lift  up  your  heads  ;  for  your  redemption  draweth  nigh.'- 

LuKE  xxi.  28. 

Advent  shadows  gather  deep. 

Wars  and  desolations, 
Troubled  wakings,  troubled  sleep, 

Rushing  of  the  nations. 
Advent  glory,  grand  and  clear, 

Herald  flashes  flingeth  ; 
And  the  Judge  who  draweth  near. 

Full  salvation  bringeth. 


'Under  His  Shadow^ 


743 


AN  INTERLUDE.  747 


Hn  Jnterlu^e. 

That  part  is  finished  !     I  lay  down  my  pen, 
And  wonder  if  the  thoughts  will  flow  as  fast 

Through  the  more  difficult  defile.     For  the  last 
Was  easy,  and  the  channel  deeper  then. 

My  Master,  I  will  trust  Thee  for  the  rest ; 

Give  me  just  what  Thou  wilt,  and  that  will  be  my  best. 


How  can  /  tell  the  varied,  hidden  need 
Of  Thy  dear  children,  all  unknown  to  me. 

Who  at  some  future  time  may  come  and  read 
What  I  have  written  !     All  are  known  to  Thee. 

As  Thou  hast  helped  me,  help  me  to  the  end ; 

Give  me  Thy  own  sweet  messages  of  love  to  send. 


So  now,  I  pray  Thee,  keep  my  hand  in  Thine, 
And  guide  it  as  Thou  wilt     I  do  not  ask 

To  understand  the  wherefore  of  each  line ; 
Mine  is  the  sweeter,  easier,  happier  task 

Just  to  look  up  to  Thee  for  every  word. 

Rest  in  Thy  love,  and  trust,  and  know  that  I  am  heard 


748  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


%zxk\Vq. 


I. 


We  watched  the  gradual  rising  of  a  star, 

Whose  delicate,  clear  ray  outshone  the  crowd ; 
Gleaming  between  the  rifts  of  parting  cloud, 
Brighter  above  each  dusky-veiling  bar. 
The  fairy  child,  the  glimpse  of  girlish  face, 
Rising  to  woman's  dower  of  fairest,  fullest  grace. 

And  still  she  rose,  and  still  she  calmly  shone, 
Walking  in  brightness  ever-brightening  still ; 
Gladdening,  attracting  at  her  queenly  will. 
With  starlike  influence.     The  years  wore  on, 
And  Isabel,  the  star,  the  pearl,  the  flower. 
Could  not  but  know  her  gift,  the  secret  of  her  power. 

'  Never  so  lovely  as  to-night,'  they  said, 
Again  and  yet  again  !     There  came  a  night 
When  many  owned  afresh  the  royal  might 
Of  beauty,  as  she  came  with  snowfall  tread. 
And  summer  smile,  and  simple  maiden  dress, 
Crowned  only  with  the  light  and  her  own  loveliness. 

And  the  next  day  she  was  a  little  tired ; 

And  the  next  night  the  rose  had  somewhat  paled. 
The  fair  pearl  glistened,  yet  it  somewhat  failed 
Of  the  past  gleam,  the  radiance  all-admired. 
From  the  soft  emerald  of  the  wind-waved  grass, 
How  soon  the  diamond  sparkle  of  the  dew  must  pass  1 


ZENITH.  749 


And  the  next  week  the  sunbeams  vainly  sought 
An  entrance,  where  their  merry  rival  lay 
Fevered  and  weary ;  while,  from  day  to  day, 
The  quick  pulse  wasted  what  short  slumber  brought 
Of  slow  renewing.     So  the  dark  mist  fell, 
And  hid  the  starry  fire  that  all  had  loved  so  well. 

Again  she  shone,  when  from  that  dark  mist  freed, 
But  with  that  singular  radiance  never  more ; 
The  brightening  upward  path  so  quickly  o'er, 
The  solemn  westward  curve  begun  indeed  ! 
The  unconscious  zenith  of  her  lovely  light 
For  ever  left  behind  on  that  gay  triumph-night ! 


IL 


Ho  !  for  the  Alps  !     The  weary  plains  of  France, 
And  the  night-shadows,  leaving  far  behind. 
For  pearl  horizons  with  pure  summits  lined, — 
On  through  the  Jura-gorge,  in  swift  advance 
Speeds  Arthur,  with  keen  hope  and  buoyant  glee. 
On  to  the  mountain  land,  home  of  the  strong  and 
free ! 

On  !  to  the  morning  flush  of  gold  and  rose ; 
On  !  to  the  torrent  and  the  hoary  pine ; 
On  !  to  the  stillness  of  life's  utmost  line ; 
On  !  to  the  crimson  fire  of  sunset  snows. 
Short  starlit  rest,  then  with  the  dawn's  first  streak. 
On  !  to  the  silent  crown  of  some  lone  icy  peak  ! 


750  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 

'T  was  no  nerve-straining  effort,  then,  for  him 
To  emulate  the  chamois-hunter's  leap 
Across  the  wide  rock-chasm,  or  the  deep 
And  darkly  blue  crevasse  with  treacherous  rim, 
Or  climb  the  sharp  arete,  or  slope  of  snow, 
With  Titan  towers  above,  and  cloud-filled  gulfs  belov/,, 

It  was  no  weariness  or  toil  to  count 

Hour  after  hour  in  that  weird  white  realm, 
With  guide  of  Alp-renown  to  touch  the  helm 
Of  practised  instinct,  rocky  spires  to  mount. 
Or  track  the  steepest  glacier's  fissured  length, 
In  the  abounding  joy  of  his  unconquered  strength. 

But  it  was  gladness  none  can  realize 

Who  have  not  felt  the  wild  Excelsior  thrill, 
The  strange  exhilarate  energies  that  fill 
The  bounding  pulses,  as  the  intenser  skies 
Embrace  the  infinite  whiteness,  clear  and  fair, 
Inhaling  vigorous  life  with  that  quick  crystal  air. 

That  Alpine  witchery  still  onward  lures. 
Upward,  still  upward,  till  the  fatal  hst 
Grows  longer  of  the  early  mourned  and  missed  \ 
Leading  where  surest  foot  no  more  ensures 
The  life  that  is  not  ours  to  throw  away 
For  the  exciting  joys  of  one  brief  summer  day. 

For  there  are  sudden  dangers  none  foreknow ; 
The  scarlet-threaded  rope  can  never  mock 
The  sound-loosed  avalanche,  frost-cloven  rock. 

Or  whirling  storm  of  paralyzing  snow. 


ZENITH.  751 


But  Arthur's  foot  was  kept ;  no  deathward  slips 
Darkened  the  zenith  of  his  strength  with  dire  edipse. 

So  year  by  year,  as  his  rich  manhood  filled, 
He  revelled  in  health-giving  mountain  feats ; 
Spurning  the  trodden  tracks  and  curious  streets, 
As  fit  for  old  men,  and  for  boys  unskilled 
In  Alpine  arts,  not  strong  nor  bold  enough 
To  battle  with  the  blast  and  scale  the  granite  bluff. 

One  glowing  August  sun  went  forth  in  might, 
And  smote  with  rosy  sword  each  snowy  brow, 
Bright  accolade  of  grandeur !     Now,  oh  now 
Amid  that  dazzling  wealth  of  purest  light. 
His  long  ambition  should  be  crowned  at  last, 
And  every  former  goal  rejoicingly  o'erpast. 

For  ere  the  white  fields  softened  in  the  glow, 
He  stood  upon  a  long-wooed  virgin-peak, 
One  of  the  few  fair  prizes  left  to  seek ; 
Each  rival  pinnacle  left  far  below  ! 
He  stood  in  triumph  on  the  conquered  height : 
And  yet  a  shadow  fell  upon  his  first  delight. 

For  well  he  knew  that  he  had  surely  done 
His  utmost,  and  that  never  summer  day 
Could  bring  a  moment  on  its  radiant  way 
Like  the  first  freshness  of  that  conquest,  won 
Where  all  had  lost  before.     A  sudden  tear 
Veiled  all  the  glorious  view,  so  grand,  so  calm,  so  clear ' 


752  'UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


III. 


An  hour  of  song !  of  musical  delight 

To  those  whose  quick,  instructed  ear  could  trace, 
Through  complex  harmonies,  the  artistic  grace. 
The  finest  shades  of  meaning,  and  the  might 
Of  order  and  of  law.     Nor  less  to  those 
Who  loved  it  as  we  love  the  fragrance  of  the  rose. 

And  Cecil  stood,  with  all  the  added  ease 
Of  ripe  experience  and  of  sure  success ; 
With  all  her  glad  instinctive  consciousness 
Of  natural  gift  that  could  not  fail  to  please; 
With  all  her  rich  maturity  of  tone, 
Like  sun-glow  of  the  South  on  purple  clusters  thrown 


She  sang  rejoicing  in  her  song, — each  bar 

A  separate  pulse  of  pleasure.     Were  there  none 
To  listen  and  applaud,  or  only  one, 
As  freely  she  had  poured  it.     For  a  star 
Shines,  not  because  we  watch  it !     Only  blaze 
Of  artificial  light  reserves  its  measured  rays. 

Yet  who,  that  ever  tasted,  does  not  know 
The  witchery  of  any  phase  of  power, 
xA.scendency  unsought,  magnetic  dower 
Of  influence  ?     And  Cecil  found  it  so, 
And  though  but  vaguely  conscious  of  her  might, 
Lived  in  her  own  strong  spell,  a  glamour  of  delight 


ZENITH.  753 

Nor  only  joy  of  power  and  joy  of  song 
To  fill  the  singer's  chalice  were  combined  • 
But  sympathetic  influences  of  mind 
Acting,  re-acting,  as  the  charmbd  throng 
Followed  the  wave  of  her  swift  magic  wand, 
Yet  lured  her  ever  on  to  fair  heights  still  beyond. 

And  so  the  soiig  passed  lO  its  dying  fall, 
As  the  electric  interchanges  crossed. 
What  marvel  that  the  closing  chord  was  lost 
In  rush  of  quick  applause  and  fond  recall ! 
And  Cecil  rose  once  more,  and  poured  again, 
From  fuller-gushing  fount,  the  doubly  welcomed  strain 

Higher  and  higher  rose  the  glorious  song, 
Deeper  and  deeper  grew  the  silence  round ; 
All  unrestrained  the  free,  full  notes  resound, 
In  splendid  carol-gladness,  holding  long 
Unwearied  listeners  in  chains  unseen, 
As  willing  captives  led  by  their  victorious  queen. 

Tribute  of  wondering  smile  was  freely  paid, 
And  then,  as  subtle  modulation  wrought 
Soft  shadows  in  the  sunny  strain,  some  brought 
The  deeper  homage  of  ■;  tear,  and,  swayed 
Beyond  confession,  strove  in  vain  to  hide 
The  unconquerable  rush  of  sweet  emotion's  tide. 

Then  once  again  the  dear  tones  rose  and  swelled, 
While  flashed  the  singer's  eye  with  inward  fire, 
And  still  the  spirit  of  the  song  soared  higher 

Until  the  closing  cadence,  as  she  held 

3B 


r54  •  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


All  hearts  entranced,  till  like  a  sunset  ray, 

The  last,  long,  sweet  note  thrilled,  and  softly  died  away. 

And  all  was  over !     Ah,  she  had  not  guessed 
That  she  had  touched  the  zenith  of  her  song, 
That  gradual  dechning,  slow  and  long 
Must  mark  the  path  now  trending  to  the  west ! 
No  boundary  line  is  seen,  and  yet  we  cross 
In  one  veiled  hour,  from  gain,  to  sure  though  lingering  lose. 

She  often  sang  again.     But  oftener  fell 
Apologies  of  unaffected  truth. 
There  was  more  effort,  yet  less  power,  in  sooth; 
The  ringing  tone  less  like  a  golden  bell. 
Not  quite  in  voice  of  late.     I'll  do  my  best ! 
Do  not  expect  too  much ; — I  think  my  voice  needs  rest.' 

So  one  by  one  the  songs  no  more  were  seen 
That  called  for  grandest  tone  and  clearest  trill. 
And  when  she  sang,  though  old  friends  loved  it  still, 
The  stranger  wondered  what  the  spell  had  been. 
And  then  they  spoke  of  how  she  used  to  sing  ! 
Passing,  or  passed  away  is  every  earthly  thing. 


IV. 

A  silent  house  beneath  a  dome  of  stars, 
A  deeply-shaded  lamp,  a  lonely  room  ; 
A  fire  whose  fitful  whispers  through  the  gloom 
In  rhythmic  cadence  leapt  athwart  the  bars  : 
A  broad,  worn  desk ;  a  broad,  worn,  bending  brow  ; 
Yet  a  bright  eye  beneath,  full  of  strange  brightness  now. 


ZENITH.  7SS 


A  rapid  hand,  that  wrote  swift  words  of  flame, 
Far-glowing  words  to  kindle  other  fires ; 
Words  that  might  flash  along  Time's  mystic  wires, 
And  thrill  the  ages  with  a  deathless  name  ; 
Barbed  words,  that  fasten  where  they  fall,  and  stay 
Deep  in  the  souls  of  men,  and  never  pass  away. 

Little  recked  Theodore  of  fame  that  night 

And  less  of  gold.     The  current  was  too  strong 
!For  such  vain  barques  to  launch.     It  swept  along 
Whither  he  hardly  knew ;  the  impulse  bright 
Passing  at  every  turn  some  opening  view, 
Some  echoing  mountain  height,  some  vista  far  and  new 

Lost  memories  trooped  in  amid  the  crowd 
Of  happiest  images ;  ethereal  forms 
Of  weirdly  prescient  fancy,  spectral  swarms, 
Before  him  in  oppressive  beauty  bowed, 
And  beckoned  him,  with  gleaming  hands,  to  grasp 
Their  fleeting  loveliness  in  firm  and  joyous  clasp. 

And  inward  music  rose,  and  wreathed  around 
Each  thought  that  shaped  itself  to  outline  clear ; 
The  royal  chimes  rang  on,  more  sweet,  more  near, 
With  every  gust.     He  caught  the  silver  sound, 
And  cast  its  fairy  mantle  o'er  the  flow 
Of  his  melodious  lines,  in  all  their  fiery  glow. 

Such  times  are  but  the  crystallizing  hours 

That  make  the  rainbow-bearing  prism.     They  change 
Long-seething  soul-solutions  into  strange 

And  startling  form ; — new  properties  and  powers, 


756  •  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW. 

And  beauties  hardly  dreamt,  yet  latent  there, 

The  poet-touch  evokes,  strong,  marvellous,  and  fair. 

For  there  are  long,  slow  overtures  before 

Such  bursts  of  song; — much  tension  unconfessed, 
Much  training  and  much  tuning, — years  compressed, 
Concentrated  in  ever-filling  store ; 
Till  thoughts,  that  surged  in  secret  deep  below, 
Rise  from  volcanic  fount  in  sudden  overflow. 


Much  living  to  short  writing !  such  the  law 
Of  living  poems,  that  have  force  to  reach 
Depths  that  are  sounded  by  no  surface-speechj 
And  thence  the  sympathetic  waters  draw 
With  golden  chain  of  many  a  fire-forged  link, 
Gently,  yet  mightily,  up  to  the  pearly  brink 

Was  it  the  stillness  of  the  lonely  night 
That  set  his  spirit  free,  with  wizard  hand, 
Opening  the  gates  of  more  than  fairyland  ? 
Oft  had  he  known  the  pulse  of  poet-might, 
But  never  quite  the  free,  exultant  power 
In  which  he  revelled  now  through  that  enchanted  hour. 

Was  it  not  rather  that  the  harvest-time, 
After  the  sowing  and  the  watering  long, 
Was  fully  come  ;  the  golden  sheaves  of  song 
Falling  in  fulness,  and  that  royal  chime 
Pealing  the  harvest-home  of  wealth  unseen, 
Where  the  remaining  years  might  only  come  and  glean  ? 


ZENITH.  757 


At  length  the  last  page  lay  beneath  the  light, 
From  wavering  erasure  free,  and  wrought 
Too  perfectly  for  any  after-thought. 
He  rose,  threw  up  the  sash,  and  on  the  night, — 
The  brilliant,  solemn  night, — looked  forth  and  sighed. 
And  felt  the  immediate  ebb  of  that  unwonted  tide. 


For  it  was  over  !  and  the  work  was  done 

For  which  his  life  was  lived  1  unconscious  yet ! 
The  blossom  fell  because  the  fruit  was  set ; 
The  standard  furled  because  the  field  was  woa 
And  with  the  energy,  the  gladness  passed, 
And  left  him  wearied  out  and  sorrowful  at  last. 


For  only  work  that  is  for  God  alone 
Hath  an  unceasing  guerdon  of  delight, 
A  guerdon  unaffected  by  the  sight 
Of  great  success,  nor  by  its  loss  o'erthrown. 
All  else  is  vanity  beneath  the  sun, 
There  may  be  joy  in  doings  but  it  palls  when  dom^ 


Once  more.     A  battle-field  of  mental  might, 
A  broad  arena  for  the  utmost  skill 
Of  world-famed  gladiators,  echoing  still 
With  praise  or  cruel  blame,  beyond  the  sight 
Of  each  day's  keen  spectators,  to  the  verge 
Of  widest  continents  and  ocean's  farthest  surge. 


758  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 

A  great  arena,  whence  the  issues  flow 
Not  only  through  an  empire  but  a  world, 
Moulding  the  centuries  ;  wherein  are  hurled 
Thunders  whose  ultimate  havoc  none  can  know, 
Striking  not  names  but  nations  : — such  the  scene 
Of  conflict  and  renown,  long  entered  by  Eugene. 

Many  a  time  his  weighty  sword  he  threw 
Into  the  scale  of  victory,  and  swayed 
The  critical  turns,  the  great  events  that  made 
The  era's  history.     For  well  he  knew 
Each  subtle  art  of  eloquence,  combined 
With  rarest  gifts  of  speech,  and  native  powers  of  mind. 

His  patriotism  earned  a  noble  meed 

Of  trust  and  honour,  more  than  any  fame. 
And  sweeter.     Yet  some  thought  his  hard-won  claim 
Not  meetly  recognised.     Perchance  indeed 
The  shadow  crossed  his  own  thought,  as  he  found 
Less  kingly  orators  with  heavier  laurels  crowned. 

At  length  a  contest  of  long  doubtful  end 
Drew  to  a  climax,  and  his  soul  was  stirred,' 
And  every  generous  faculty  was  spurred 
To  utmost  energy.     For  he  could  spend 
His  very  self  upon  the  cause  that  seemed 
Clear  justice  and  clear  right ;  or  rather,  so  he  deemed  ! 

For  there  are  few  who  care  to  analyze 

The  mingled  motives,  in  their  complex  force, 
Of  some  apparently  quite  simple  course. 
One  disentangled  skein  might  well  surprise. 
Perhaps  a  '  single  heart '  is  never  known 
Save  in  the  yielded  life  that  lives  for  God  alone. — 


ZENITH.  759 

And  that  is  therefore  doubted,  as  a  dream, 

By  those  who  know  not  the  tremendous  power 
Of  all-constraining  love  !     So  in  that  hour 
Of  fierce  excitement,  'mid  the  flashing  gleam 
Of  measured  glaive,  I  will  not  dare  to  say 
That  Eugene's  purest  zeal  no  party  claim  might  sway. 


Still,  all  combined  to  bid  the  eagle  soar 

Beyond  the  common  clouds,  the  shifting  mists 
Of  every-day  debate,  the  very  lists 
Of  strong  opponents  strengthening  him  the  more. 
As  the  strong  pinion  finds  the  opposing  breeze 
The  very  means  of  rising  over  land  and  seas.i 


So  Eugene  rose  in  his  full  manly  strength, 
Reining  at  first  the  fiery  courser  in. 
That  with  calm  concentration  he  might  win 
The  captious  ear ; — reserve  of  power  at  length. 
At  the  right  moment  from  the  wise  curb  freed. 
Triumphantly  burst  forth  with  grand  impetuous  sjiced. 


And  as  the  great  speech  mounted  to  a  pause 

Some  foes  were  silenced,  some  were  wholly  gained, 
And  all  were  spellbound,  stilled,  and  marvel-chained, 
And,  more  than  all  the  clatter  of  applause, 
The  cause  was  won  !     '  Eugene  was  at  his  best 
To-night ! '     So  much  they  knew  !    They  did  not  know 
the  rest ! 

*  See  Duke  of  Argyle's  '  Reign  of  Law. ' 


76o  ^  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


\ 


For  they  who  watched  with  envy  or  delight 
The  moment  of  his  zenith,  httle  knew 
It  was  the  moment  of  his  setting  too  ; 
For  fell  paralysis  drew  near  that  night. 
Never  again  Eugene  might  proudly  stand 
And  sway  the  men  who  swayed  the  sceptre  of  his  land 


VI. 


A  simple  Christmas  Day  at  home  !     And  yet 
It  was  the  very  zenith  of  two  stars 
That  rose  together  through  the  cloudy  bars, 
In  bright  perpetual  conjunction  met. 
A  day  whose  memory  should  never  cease, — 
A  Coronation  Day  of  Love  and  Joy  and  Peace. 

The  culmination  of  two  lives  that  passed 

Through  many  a  chance  and  change  of  chequered 

years, 
Each  shining  for  the  other,  hopes  and  fears 
Centred  within  their  home  !     And  now  at  last 
They  gazed  upon  a  clear,  calm  sky  around, 
And  rested  in  their  love,  that  day  serenely  crowned. 

Bernard  and  Constance  had  no  wish  beyond 
Each  other's  gladness,  and  the  fuller  good 
Of  those  beloved  ones  who  blithely  stood 
Around  the  Christmas  fire, — the  fair  and  fond, 
The  strong  and  merry ;  sons  and  daughters  grown 
In  closest  unity,— rich  treasures  all  their  own. 


ZENITH.  761 

Bright  arrows  of  full  quiver  !  still  unshot 

By  ruthless  bow  of  Time  and  scattered  wide, 
Still  in  the  sweet  home-bundle  tightly  tied, 
Though  feathered  for  the  flight  from  that  safe  spot. 
Flight  when  ?  and  whither  ?     Ah  me  !  who  might  say 
What  should  befall  before  another  Christmas  Day  ! 

Closer  they  clustered  in  the  twilight  fall, 

And  talked  of  pleasant  memories  of  the  year, 
And  then  of  pleasant  prospects  far  and  near ; 
Each  name  responding  at  each  gleeful  call. 
The  merry  mention  of  a  dear  name  there 
Had  never  yet  been  hushed  by  any  empty  chair. 

But,  most  of  all,  the  gladness  and  fV  pride 
Circled  around  the  eldest  brother's  name ; 
His  first  success,  his  rising  college  fame, 
Made  merriest  music  at  that  warm  fireside  ; 
And  in  the  parent-hearts  deep  echoes  thrilled. 
As  the  repeated  chord  proclaimed  fond  hopes  fulfilled. 

No  dim  presentiment  of  sorrow  fell 
Upon  that  zenith  hour  of  happiness, 
Perhaps  the  brightest  that  could  ever  bless 
A  merely  earthly  lot ;  the  purest  well 
Of  natural  joy,  unselfish,  undefiled. 
Up-springing  to  the  day,  while  heaven  above  it  smiled. 

And  so  the  evening  hours  sped  swiftly  by, 
And  Christmas  carols  closed  the  happy  time. 
And  Christmas  bells,  in  sweet  wind-wafted  cliime. 
Stole  softly  through  the  shutters.     Not  a  sigh 
With  music  of  the  gay  good-night  was  blent. 
No  discord  in  that  full,  harmonious  content. 


7^2  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


What  then  ?     Bernard  and  Constance  wakeful  lay 
A  long,  long  while,  unwilling  each  to  tell 
That,  as  the  midnight  tolled,  it  seemed  the  knell 
Of  the  great  gladness  of  that  Christmas  Day. 
'  Oh,  what  if  it  should  prove  too  bright  to  last. 
Clear  shining  that  precedes  the  wild  and  rainy  blast ! ' 

And  they  were  right.     It  could  not  come  again ! 

Sickness,  and  scattering,  and  varied  woe, 

Yet  nothing  but  the  lot  of  most  below, 

Soon  marred  the  music  of  that  perfect  strain. 

And  though  the  westering  path  had  many  a  gleam, 

That  zenith-joy  was  but  an  oft-remembered  dream. 


VII. 

A  soft  spring  twilight.     Cherry  blossoms  white 
Whispered  about  the  summer  they  were  told 
Was  coming,  when  the  beech  trees  would  unfold 
Their  horny  buds,  and  chestnuts  would  be  dight 
In  great  green  leaves.     '  What  will  become  of  us  ? ' 
They  wondered  !     And  they  shivered  as  they  questioned 
thus. 

For  the  east  wind  came  by,  with  curfew  bell 
Upon  his  wings,  and  touched  them  stealthily, 
Shrivelling  the  tender  leaves.     And  silently 
In  their  sweet  white  array  the  blossoms  fell. 
Ah  for  the  zenith  of  the  cherry  tree  ! 
Yet  is  it  past,  although  the  snowy  glories  be  ? 


ZENITH.  763 

Wait  for  the  shining  of  the  summer  day  ; 
Wait  for  the  crimson  glow  amid  the  green ; 
Wait  for  the  wealth  of  ruby  ripeness,  seen 
After  the  fitful  spring  has  passed  away. 
Wait  till  the  Master  comes,  with  His  own  hand 
To  find  His  pleasant  fruit  in  clusters  rich  and  grand. 

Yes,  soft  spring  twilight !     And  a  bowing  head, 
A  kneeling  form  amid  the  shadows  grey ; 
A  heart  from  which  the  hopes  had  passed  away. 
That  made  life  exquisite  as  the  blossoms  shed 
Around  that  open  window ; — and  a  throb 
Of  dull  grey  pain,  that  rose,  and  forced  one  low  deep  sob. 

Only  the  zenith  of  his  youth  had  passed. 

And  scarcely  that.     Yet  perhaps  the  saddest  time 
Is  while  the  echo  of  the  matin  chime 
Has  hardly  died  away  in  silence  vast ; 
Sadder  to  realize  the  noonday  height. 
Than  the  slow-gathering  shades  of  long  impending  night. 

It  did  not  seem  that  there  could  ever  be 
Another  zenith,  different,  and  bright 
With  grander  hopes,  and  far  more  glorious  light 
Than  all  the  spells  of  syren  minstrelsy, 
And  all  the  love  and  gladness  that  entwined 
The  merry  paths  of  youth,  for  ever  left  behind. 

For  Godfrey  had  no  special  powers  to  spur 
To  emulation  in  the  great  world-race. 
No  special  gifts  or  aims ; — the  open  space 

A  possible  joy  had  filled — the  dream  of  her 


754  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 

Who  might  have  been  and  yet  was  not  to  be 
Queen  of  his  life  !  and  now — the  dark-draped  throne  was 
free ! 

Free !     Yet  Another  claimed  that  empty  throne, 
And  in  the  twilight  He  was  drawing  near, 
'Mid  all  those  shadows  of  dim  grief,  and  fear, 
And  sense  of  vanity.     The  King  unknown, 
Unrecognised  as  yet,  was  come  to  reign. 
And  yet  to  crown  the  life  that  owned  its  Hfe  was  vain. 

And  while  the  spring  airs  trembled  through  the  trees, 
The  gracious  Wind  that  bloweth  where  it  lists 
Dispersed  the  fallacies,  the  world-breathed  mists 
That  hid  unseen  realities.     That  Breeze 
Unveiled  the  mysteries  of  hidden  sin, 
And  let  the  all-searching  Light  flash  startlingly  within. 

Then  the  vague  weariness  was  roused  indeed, 
And  passed  away  for  ever,  as  he  saw 
The  nearer  lightnings  of  the  -holy  law 
Through  suddenly  deepenmg  darkness ;  then  the  need 
More  of  a  Saviour  than  mere  safety  dawned 
In  lurid  daybreak,  as  he  glimpsed  the  gulf  that  yawned 

Close  at  his  feet — those  careless  feet  that  trod 
So  merrily  a  harmless-seeming  course 
Of  merely  useless  pleasure,  by  the  force 
Of  custom,  and  yet  never  came  to  God, 
Never  yet  stepped  upon  the  Living  Way 
That  only  leads  to  life  and  everlasting  day.  .  ■' 


ZENITH.  765 

Again  that  holy  Breeze  swept  by  in  might, 

And  fanned  each  faint  desire  to  stronger  flame  ; 
He  said,  '  O  bid  me  come  to  Thee  ! '     He  came, 
Just  as  he  was,  that  memorable  night. 
And  lo  !  the  King,  who  waited  at  the  door, 
Entered,  to  save,  to  reign,  and  to  go  out  no  more. 

And  then  he  saw  those  awful  lightnings  fall 
Through  the  cleft  heavens  upon  a  lonely  Tree 
That  stood  upon  a  mount  called  Calvary, 
And  knew  that  stroke  had  spent  the  fiery  ball : 
And  then  the  earthquake  closed  the  gulf  below. 
While  he  stood  all  unscathed,  safe  from  the  overthrow. 

*  Stood,'  said  I  ?     Nay,  in  wonder  and  in  love 
As  on  that  more  than  vision  Godfrey  gazed, 
He  fell  at  his  Deliverer's  feet,  and  praised 
With  a  new  sweetness,  sweet  as  harps  above, 
The  glorious  One,  whose  royal  grace  had  saved 
The  aimless  wanderer,  who  never  grace  had  craved. 

Far  in  the  night  this  wondrous  watch  he  kept 
With  the  unslumbering  Shepherd,  while  a  joy, 
The  first  he  ever  knew  without  alloy. 
Filled  all  his  soul  with  hght.     At  last  he  slept. 
Wrapped  in  this  strange  new  peace,  whose  steady  beam 
Made  all  his  past  life  seem  a  sinful,  troubled  dream. 

What  then  ?     It  was  no  zenith,  though  the  star 
Of  life  shone  out  at  radiant  height,  that  dimmed 
Each  previous  gleam  to  gloom  that  barely  rimmed 

The  shifting  clouds,  with  something,  that,  from  far 


766  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


Might  have  been  fancied  light,  yet  only  made 

The  darkness  more  discerned,  the  spirit  more  afraid. 

Rather,  it  was  the  rising  !  the  first  hour 

Of  the  true  shining,  that  should  rise  and  rise 
From  glory  unto  glory,  through  God's  skies, 
In  strengthening  brightness  and  increasing  power. 
A  rising  with  no  setting,  for  its  height 
Could  only  culminate  in  God's  eternal  light. 

The  feeble  glimmer  of  the  former  days, 

The  hope,  the  love,  the  very  glee,  that  paled 
Just  at  their  seeming  zenith,  and  then  failed 
Of  fuller  sparkling, — all  the  scattered  rays 
Were  caught  up  and  transfigured,  in  the  blaze 
Of  the  new  life  of  love,  and  energy,  and  praise. 

The  joy  of  loyal  service  to  the  King 

Shone  through  them  all,  and  lit  up  other  lives 
With  the  new  fire  of  faith,  that  ever  strives, 
Like  a  swift-kindling  beacon,  far  to  fling 
The  tidings  of  His  victory,  and  claim 
New  subjects  for  His  realm,  new  honour  for  His  Name. 

And  so  the  years  flowed  on,  and  only  cast 
Light,  and  more  light,  upon  the  shining  way, 
That  more  and  more  shone  to  the  perfect  day ; 
Always  intenser,  clearer  than  the  past ; 
Because  they  only  bore  him  on  glad  wing 
Nearer  the  Light  of  Light,  the  Presence  of  the  King. 


ZENITH.  767 


Who  recks  the  short  recession  of  a  wave 
In  the  strong  flowing  of  a  tide  ?     And  so 
Without  a  pang  could  Godfrey  leave  below 
Successive  earthly  zeniths,  while  he  gave 
A  glad  glance  upward  to  the  rainbow  Throne, 
And  joyously  pressed  on  to  nobler  heights  alone. 

Or  if  awhile  a  looming  sorrow-cloud 

He  entered,  still  he  found  the  Glory  there, 
Shechinah-brightness  resting  still  and  fair 
Within  the  holy  curtains,  as  he  bowed 
Before  the  Presence  on  the  Mercy-seat ; 
Then  forth  he  came  with  sound  of  golden  bells  most  sweet 

And  then  the  music  floated  on  the  wind, 
A  constant  carol  of  glad  tidings  told, 
Of  how  the  hves  the  One  Life  doth  enfold 
Are  ever  with  that  Life  so  closely  twined, 
That  nought  can  separate,  below,  above, 
And  life  itself  is  one  long  miracle  of  love. 

At  last  the  gentle  tone  was  heard,  that  falls 
In  all-mysterious  sweetness  on  the  ear 
That  long  has  listened,  longing,  without  fear, 
Because  so  well  it  knows  the  Voice  that  calls ; 
Though  only  once  that  solemn  call  is  heard. 
While  angel-songs  take  up  the  echoes  of  the  word. 

'  Friend,  go  up  higher ! '  So  he  took  that  night 
The  one  grand  step,  beyond  the  stars  of  God, 
Into  the  splendour,  shadowless  and  broad, 

Into  the  everlasting  joy  and  light 


758  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW.' 

The  Zenith  of  the  earthly  Hfe  was  come  ; 

What  marvel  that  the  lips  were  for  the  moment  dumb ! 

What  then  ?     Eye  hath  not  seen,  ear  hath  not  heard  1 
Wait  till  thou  too  hast  fought  the  noble  strife, 
And  won,  through  Jesus  Christ,  the  crown  of  life ! 
Then  shalt  thou  know  the  glory  of  the  word. 
Then  as  the  stars  for  ever — ever  shine, 
Beneath  the  King's  own  smile, — perpetual  Zenith  thine  I 


"Cbe  Ubouabts  ot  GoC)» 

Thy  thoughts,  O  God  !  O  theme  Divine ! 
Except  Thy  Spirit  in  my  darkness  shine, 
And  make  it  light, 
And  overshadow  me  ^ 

With  stilling  might. 
And  touch  my  lips  that  I  may  speak  of  Thee, — 

How  shall  I  soar 
To  thoughts  of  Thy  thoughts  ?  and  how  dare  to  writt; 
Of  Thine? 

Thou  understandest  mine 
Far  off  and  long  before. 
Thou  searchest,  knowest,  compassest !     Thy  hand  is  laid 

Upon  me.     Whither  shall  I  flee 
From  Omnipresence  and  Omniscience  ?     If  I  fly 
To  heaven.  Thou  art  there :  and  if  I  lie 

In  the  unseen  land, 
Behold,  Thou  art  there  also  !     If  I  take 
The  wings  of  morning,  and  my  dweUing  make 
In  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  great  sea, 


THE  THOUGHTS  OF  GOD.  769 


Even  tliere  Thy  hand  shall  lead  me,  Thy  right  hand 
Shall  hold  me.     If  I  say 
Surely  the  night 
Shall  cover  me,  it  shall  be  light 

About  me.     Yea,  the  shade 
Of  darkness  hideth  not  from  Thee, 

Night  shineth  as  the  day  ; 
The  darkness  and  the  light  are  both  alike  to  Thee. 

Thee  I  will  praise  :  for  I  am  fearfully 
And  wonderfully  made. 
My  substance  was  not  hid  from  Thee 
When  I  was  made  in  secret,  curiously  wrought 
And  yet  imperfect.     Then 
Thine  eyes  did  see  me.     In  Thy  book 
Were  all  my  members  written,  when 
Not  one  of  them  was  into  being  brought. 
Such  knowledge  is  too  wonderful  for  me, 
Too  excellent,  too  high.     Yet 't  is  but  one 

Keen  ray  of  Thy  great  sun 
Touching  an  atom  in  a  dusty  nook  ! 

One  ray  !  while  others  traverse  depths  profound 
Of  possible  chaos ;  and  illume 
The  boundless  bound 
Of  space ;  and  vivify  worlds  all  unguessed. 
To  whom 
Our  farthest  eastern  spark, 
Caught  by  the  mightiest  telescope  that  ever  picrcxl  llie 
dark, 

Is  farthest  west. 
3C 


«  UNDER  HIS  shadow: 


One  ray  !  while  others  overflow 
The  countless  hosts  of  angels  with  celestial  blaze ; 
With  still  diviner  glow, 
Flooding  each  heart  with  adoration  sweet . 

And  yet  too  glorious  for  the  gaze 
Of  seraphim,  who  cover  face  and  feet 
With  burning  wings, 


While  through  the  universe  their  '  Holy,  holy/  rings.  j 


Only  one  ray !     Yet  doth  it  come 
So  close  to  us,  so  very  near, 
Our  inmost  selves  enfolding, 
Discerning,  penetrating, — we,  beholding 
Its  terrible  brightness,  well  might  fear, 
But  for  the  glow 
Of  known  and  trusted  Love  that  pulseth  warm  below. 
And  so 
The  psalm  ariseth,  strong  and  clear, 
'  How  precious  are  Thy  thoughts  to  me,  O  God  ! 
How  great  their  sum  ! ' 
Uncounted,  marvellous,  and  very  deep  and  broad, 
Unsearchable  and  high ! 

Infinity 
Of  hohest,  mightiest  mystery, 

That  never  sight 
Or  tongue  of  mortal  seer 
Could  see  or  tell. 
That  never  flight 
Of  flame-like  spirits  that  in  strength  excel 
Hath  reached  !     The  very  faith  that  brings  us  near 
Reveals  new  distances,  new  depths  of  light 
Unfathomed, — seas  of  suns  that  never  eye 


THE  THOUGHTS  OF  GOD.  771 

Created,  hath  behfeld  or  ever  can  behold  ! 

What  know  we  of  God's  thoughts  ?     One  word  of  gold 
A  volume  doth  enfold. 
They  are — '  Not  ours ! ' 
Ours  ?  what  are  they  ?  their  value  and  their  powers  ? 
So  evanescent,  that  while  thousands  fleet 
Across  the  busy  brain, 
Only  a  few  remain 
To  set  their  seal  on  memory's  strange  consistence. 
Of  these,  some  worthless,  some  a  life-regret, 

That  we  would  fain  forget ; 
And  very  few  are  rich  and  great  and  sweet ; 
And  fewer  still  are  lasting  gain. 
And  these  most  often  born  of  pain, 
Or  sprung  from  strong  concussion  into  strong  existence. 

What  else  ?     Even  in  their  proudest  strength  so  weak. 
So  isolated  and  so  rootless. 

So  flowerless  and  so  fruitless  ; — 
We  think,  and  dare  not  do, — we  think,  and  cannot  speak ; 
A  thought  alone  is  less  than  breath, 
Only  the  shudder  of  a  living  death, 
A  thing  of  scorn, 
A  formless  embryo  in  chaos  born, 
It  must  be  seized  with  resolute  grasp  of  will, 

With  swiftness  and  with  skill. 
And  moulded  on  life's  anvil,  ere  it  glow 
With  any  fire  or  force ; 
And  wrought  with  many  a  blow 
And  welded  in  the  heat  by  toiling  strength 
With  many  another,  ere  it  go  at  length 
The  humblest  mission  to  fulfil. 


772  •  UNDER  HIS  shadow: 


And  then  its  tiny  might 
Is  not  inherent,  but  alone  dependent 
Upon  the  primal  source 
And   spring   of  power,    First,  Sole,    Supreme,    Trans- 
cendent ! 

What  else  ?     So  circumscribed  in  flight ! 
Like  bats  in  sunshine,  striking  helpless  wings 
Against  the  shining  things. 
That  to  their  dazzled  sight 
Appear  not ;  hindered  everywhere 
By  unseen  obstacles  with  puzzling  pain. 
Or  like  the  traveller,  toiling  long  to  gain 

An  Alpine  summit,  white  and  fair, 
With  far-extending  view ;  but  still  withheld, 
And  to  the  downward  track  with  fainting  step  compelled 
By  an  intangible  barrier ;  for  the  air 
Is  all  too  rare, 
Too  keenly  pure 
For  valley-dweller  to  endure. 
For  thus  our  thoughts  rebound 
From  the  Invisible-Infinite,  on  every  side 

Hemmed  ever  round 
By  the  Impassable,  that  never  mortal  pinion 
Hath  over-soared,  that  mocks  at  human  pride, 
Imprisoned  in  its  own  supposed  dominion. 

What  else  ?     So  mingled,  so  impure ; 
So  interwoven  with  the  threads  of  sin. 
Visible  or  invisible  as  the  sight 

Is  purged  to  see  them  in  God's  light ; 


THE  THOUGHTS  OF  GOD.  773 

So    subtle  in  their  changeful  forms,   now    dark,   now 
bright; 
Such  mystery  of  iniquity  within, 
That  we  must  loathe  our  very  thoughts,  but  for  the  cure 
He  hath  devised, — the  blessed  Tree 
The  Lord  hath  shown  us,  that,  cast  in,  can  heal 
The  fountain  whence  the  bitter  waters  flow. 
Divinest  remedy 

Whose  power  we  feel. 
Whose  grace  we  comprehend  not,  but  we  know. 

What  else  ?     So  fallible,  so  full  of  errors, — 
No  certainty  !     In  aught  unproved  and  new, 
Treading  volcanic  soil  o'er  smothered  terrors  \ 
Spectral  misgivings  rising  to  the  view, 
As  each  step  crushes  through 
Some  older  crust  of  truth  assumed.     And  this  is  all 
That  human  thoughts  can  do. 
Leaning  on  human  strength  and  reason  solely ; 
Now  wrong,  now  right,  now  false,  now  true, 
As  may  befall ! 
And  even  the  truest  never  reaching  wholly 
Truth  Absolute, 
That  still  our  touch  eludes. 

And  vanishes  in  deeper  depths  when  man  intrudes 
Within  her  awful  solitudes. 
Where  many  a  string  is  mute 
And  many  awanting,  all  the  rest 
Imperfectly  attuned  at  best, — 
We  can  but  wait  for  truth  of  tone, 
For  truth  of  modulation  and  expression, 
With  lowliest  confession 


7 74  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADO  W. ' 


Of  utter  powerlessness,  content 
To  trust  His  thoughts  and  not  our  own, — 
Until  the  Maker  of  the  instrument 
Shall  tune  it  in  another  sphere, 
By  His  own  perfect  hand  and  ear. 

Now  turn  we  from  the  darkness  to  the  light, 
From  dissonance  to  pure  and  full  accord  ! 
'  My  thoughts  are  not  as  your  thoughts,  saith  the  Lord, 
Nor  are  your  ways  as  My  ways.     As  the  height 
Of  heaven  above  the  earth,  so  are  My  ways, 
My  thoughts,  to  yours  ; — out  of  your  sight, 
Above  your  praise,' 
O  oracle  most  grand  ! 
Thus  teaching  by  sublimest  negative 
What  by  a  positive  we  could  not  understand, 
Or,  understanding,  live ! 
And  now,  search  fearlessly 
The  imperfections  and  obscurity. 

The  weakness  and  impurity, 
Of  all  our  thoughts.     On  each  discovery 
Write,  '  Not  as  ours  ! '     Then,  in  every  line, 

Behold  God's  glory  shine 
In  humbling  yet  sweet  contrast,  as  we  view 
I//s  thoughts.  Eternal,  Strong,  and  Holy,  Infinite,  and 
True. 

And  now,  what  have  we  of  these  thoughts  of  God, 
So  high,  so  deep,  so  broad  ? 
What  hath  He  given,  and  what  are  we  receiving? 
A  revelation 
Dim,  pale,  and  cold 
Beside  their  hidden  fire,  yet  gorgeously  enscrolled 


THE  THOUGHTS  OF  GOD.  775 


Upon  His  wide  Creation. 
He  would  not  all  withhold, 
His  children  in  the  silent  darkness  leaving ; 
Nor  would  He  overwhelm  our  heart 

And  strike  it  dumb  ; 
And  so  He  hath  enfolded  some 
In  fair  expressions  for  the  eye  and  ear ; 

Though  faint,  yet  clear ; 
Such  as  our  powers  may  apprehend  in  part. 
Thus  hath  He  wrought 
The  dazzUng  swiftness  of  the  thought 
That  veiled  itself  for  mortal  ken  in  light. 
And  thus  the  myriad-handed  might 
Of  that  from  which  the  milUon-teeming  ocean  fell, 
No  greater  toil  to  Him, 
From  silent  depth  to  surfy  rim, 
Than  the  small  crystal  drop  which  fills  a  rosy  shell. 
And  thus  the  Infinite  Ideal 
Of  perfect  Beauty,  (only  real 
In  Him  and  through  Him,  pure  conception 
Too  exquisite  for  our  perception,) 
He  hath  translated,  giving  us  such  lines 

As  we  can  trace, 
In  mountain  grandeur  and  in  lily  grace. 
In  sunset,  cloudland,  or  soul-moulded  face, 
Such  alphabets  and  signs 
As  we.  His  little  ones,  may  slowly,  softly  read, 
Supplying  thus  a  deep,  true  spirit-need. 

What  know  we  more  ?     One  thought  He  hath  expressed 

In  that  great  scheme 
Of  which  we,  straining,  catch  a  glimpse  or  gleam 


776  •  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW. 


In  light  or  shadow ; — scheme  embracing  all, 
Star-system  cycles  and  the  sparrow's  fall ; —  m 

Scheme  all-combining,  wisest,  grandest,  best.  fl 

We  call  it  Providence.     And  each  may  deem  ^ 

Himself  a  tiny  centre  of  that  thought ; 

For  how  mysteriously  enwrought 
Are  all  our  moments  in  its  folds  of  might. 

Our  own  horizon  ever  bounding 
And  yet  not  limiting,  but  still  surrounding 
Our  lives,  while  reaching  far  beyond  our  quickest  sight. 
O  thought  of  consummated  harmony  ! 
Each  life  is  one  note  in  that  symphony, 
Without  which  were  its  cadence  incomplete  : 
Yet  each  note  complex,  formed  of  many  a  reed ; 
And  each  reed  quivering  with  vibrations  passing  count, 
And  each  vibration  blending 
In  mystic  trinities  ascending 
Through  weird  harmonics  that  recede 
Into  the  unknown  silences,  or  meet 
In  clashing  thrills  unanalyzed,  and  mount 
In  tangled  music,  yet  all  plain  and  clear 

Unto  the  Master's  ear. 
O  thought  of  consummated  melody 
And  perfect  rhythm  !  though  its  mighty  beat 
Transcend  angelic  faculty. 

And  though  its  mighty  bars 
May  be  the  fall  of  worlds,  the  birth  of  stars, 
Its  measure — all  eternity — 

One  echo,  calm  and  sweet, 
Our  clue  to  this  great  music  of  God's  plan, 
Sounds  on  in  ever-varying  repeat — 
Glory  to  God  on  high,  peace  and  goodwill  to  man ! 


THE  THOUGHTS  OF  GOD.  777 

What  have  we  more  ?     Scan  we  the  blinding  blaze 

Of  the  refulgent  rays 
Outpoured  from  the  Very  Fount  of  Light  ? 
One  thought  of  God  in  undiluted  splendour 
Flashed  on  our  feeble  gaze, 
Were  never  borne  by  mortal  sight. 
He  knew  it,  and  He  gave. 
In  mercy  tender, 
All  that  the  soul  unwittingly  doth  crave, 

All  that  it  can  receive.     He  robed 
In  finite  words  the  sparkles  of  His  thought, 
The  starry  fire  englobed 
In  tiny  spheres  of  language,  shielding,  softening  thus 
The  living,  burning  glory.     And  He  brought 

Even  to  us 
This  strange  celestial  treasure  that  no  prayer 

Had  asked  of  Him,  no  ear  had  heard, 
No  heart  of  man  conceived.     He  laid  it  there, 
Even  at  our  feet,  and  said  it  was  His  Word. 
O  mystery  of  tender  grace  ! 

We  find 
God's  thoughts  in  human  words  enshrined, 
God's  very  life  and  love  with  ours  entwined. 
All  wonderingly  from  page  to  page  we  pass, 
Owning  the  darkening  yet  revealing  glass  ; 
In  every  line  we  trace, 
In  fair  display, 
Prismatic  atoms  of  the  glorious  bow 
Projected  on  the  darkest  cloud  that  e'er 
O'ergloomed  the  world  that  God  had  made  so  fair, 
The  rainbow  of  His  covenant ;  each  one 
"Reflecting  perfectly  a  sevenfold  ray, 


778  'UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 

Shot  from  the  sun 
Of  His  exceeding  love, 
Strong  and  serene  above, 
Upon  a  tremulous  drop  of  tearful  life  below. 

One  thought,  His  thought  of  thoughts,  awakes  oui 

song 
Of  endless  thanks  and  marvelling  adoration 
More  than  aught  else.     For  Providence,  Creation, 
All  He  hath  made  and  all  He  doth  prepare, 

Thoughts  grand  and  wise,  and  strong, 
Thoughts  tender  and  most  fair, 
Are  pale  beside  the  glory  of  Salvation, 
R.edemption's  gracious  plan  and  glorious  revelation : — 
The  focus  where  all  rays  unite ; 
Each  attribute  arrayed  in  sevenfold  light, 
Each  adding  splendour  to  the  rest. 
The  meeting  blest 
Of  His  great  love  and  foreseen  human  woe 
Struck  forth  a  mighty  fire,  that  sent  a  glow 
Throughout  the  universe ; — an  overflow 
To  the  dim  confines  that  none  know 
Save  He  who  traced  them ;  lit  up  gloriously 
The  farthest  vistas  of  Eternity ; 
And,  flooding  heaven  itself  with  radiance  new, 
Revealed  the  heart  of  God,  all-merciful,  all-true. 

Thus  are  the  thoughts  of  God  made  known  to  men. 
Yet  is  all  revelation  bounded 
First  by  its  vehicle,  and  then 
By  its  reception.     Unseen  things 
Remain  unfathomed  and  unsounded, 


I 


THE  THOUGHTS  OF  GOD.  779 

And  hidden  as  the  springs 
Of  an  immeasurable  sea, 
Because  His  thought,  subHme  and  great. 
No  language  finds  commensurate 
With  its  infinity ; 
And  when  compressed  in  any  finite  mould, 
'T  is  but  a  firaction  that  the  mind  of  man 
Receiveth.     For  we  hold 
But  what  we  span, 
We  only  see 
What  feeble  lenses  and  weak  sight  may  scan. 
And  thus  a  double  lessening,  double  veiling 
Of  the  unimagined  glory  of  a  thought  of  Him 
Who  dwells  between  the  cherubim  ! 

First,  suffering  and  paling 
By  its  necessitate  transition 
From  Infinite  to  Finite,  for  that  all  expression 
Is  by  its  nature  finite ;  then  the  vision 
Which  angels  might  receive  straightway, 
Unshorn  of  any  ray. 
And  hold  in  full  possession, 
Must  enter  by  the  portal 
Of  faculties  sin-paralyzed  and  mortal ; 
And  in  the  human  breast's  low-vaulted  gloom 
It  finds  no  room 
For  any  high  display. 

This  is  no  guess-work.     It  is  even  so 
With  our  poor  thoughts.     For  they  are  always  more 
Than  any  form  or  language  can  convey. 
We  know 
Things  that  we  cannot  say ; 


7So  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


We  soar, 
Where  we  could  never  map  our  flight. 
We  see 
Flashes  and  colourings  too  quick  and  brigh 
For  any  hand  to  paint.     We  meet 
Depths  that  no  line  can  sound.     We  hear 
Strange  far-off  mental  music,  all  too  sweet, 
Too  great  for  any  earthly  instrument ; 
Gone,  if  we  strive  to  bring  it  near. 

For  who  that  knows 
The  sudden  surging  and  the  startling  throes 
Of  subterranean  soul-fires  with  no  vent, 

That  seek  an  Etna  all  in  vain ; — 
Or  the  slow  forming  of  some  grand,  fair  thought, 
With  exquisite  hngering  outwrought, 
Only  to  melt  before  the  touch  of  effort  or  of  pain  : — 
(Like  quivering  rose-fire  'neath  a  filmy  veil 
In  mountain  dawn, 
That  grows  all  still  and  pale 
When  the  transparent  silver  is  withdrawn. ) 
Oh  !  who  that  knows  but  owns  the  meagre  dower 
Of  poor   weak   language  married  to    thought's    royal 
power — 
Oh  !  who  that  knows  but  needs  must  own, 
If  it  be  thus 
Even  with  us, 
Groping  and  tottering  alone 
Around  the  footstool  of  His  throne. 
With  limited  ideas  and  babe-hke  powers, 
What  must  it  be  with  Him,  whose  thoughts  are  not  as 
ours! 


THE  THOUGHTS  OF  GOD.  781 


And  now 
We  only  bow, 
And  gaze  above 
In  raptured  awe  and  silent  love  j 
For  mortal  speech 
Can  never  reach 
A  word  of  meetly-moulded  praise, 
For  one  glimpse  of  the  blessed  rays, 
Ineffable  and  purely  bright, 
Outflowing  ever  from  the  Unapproached  Light 


They  say  there  is  a  hollow,  safe  and  still, 
A  point  of  coolness  and  repose 
Within  the  centre  of  a  flame,  where  life  might  dwell 
Unharmed  and  unconsumed,  as  in  a  luminous  shell, 
Which  the  bright  walls  of  fire  enclose 
In  breachless  splendour,  barrier  that  no  foes 
Could  pass  at  will. 

There  is  a  point  of  rest 
At  the  great  centre  of  the  cyclone's  force, 

A  silence  at  its  secret  source  ; — 
A  little  child  might  slumber  undistressed. 
Without  the  ruffle  of  one  fairy  curl. 
In  that  strange  central  calm  amid  the  mighty  whirl 

So,  in  the  centre  of  these  thouglits  of  God, 
Cyclones  of  power,  consuming  glory-fire, — 

As  we  fall  o'crawed 
Upon  our  faces,  and  are  lifted  higher 
By  His  great  gentleness,  and  carried  nigher 
Than  unredeemed  angels,  till  we  stand 


782  ^ UNDER  HIS  SHADOW.' 

Even  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand, — 
Nay,  more  !  we  lean  upon  His  breast — 
There,  there  we  find  a  point  of  perfect  rest 
And  glorious  safety.     There  we  see 
His  thoughts  to  usward,  thoughts  of  peace 
That  stoop  to  tenderest  love ;  that  still  increase 
With  increase  of  our  need;  that  never  change, 
That  never  fail,  or  falter,  or  forget. 
O  pity  infinite ! 
O  royal  mercy  free  1 
O  gentle  climax  of  the  depth  and  height 
Of  God's  most  precious  thoughts,  most  wonderful,  most  jJ 

strange ! 
'  For  I  am  poor  and  needy,  yet 
The  Lord  Himself,  Jehovah,  thinketh  upon  vic!^ 


Ube  /IDinistr^  of  Jixtercessiotu 

There  is  no  holy  service 

But  hath  its  secret  bliss  : 
Yet,  of  all  blessM  ministries, 

Is  one  so  dear  as  this  ? 
The  ministry  that  cannot  be 

A  wondering  seraph's  dower, 
Enduing  mortal  weakness 

With  more  than  angel-power. 
The  ministry  of  purest  love 

Uncrossed  by  any  fear. 
That  bids  us  meet  at  the  Master's  feet, 

And  keeps  us  very  near. 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  INTERCESSION.  7S3 

God's  ministers  are  many, 

For  this  His  gracious  will, 
.Remembrancers  that  day  and  night 

This  holy  office  fill 
While  some  are  hushed  in  slumber, 

Some  to  fresh  service  Avake, 
And  thus  the  saintly  number 

No  change  or  chance  can  break. 
And  thus  the  sacred  courses 

Are  evermore  fulfilled, 
The  tide  of  grace  by  time  or  place 

Is  never  stayed  or  stilled. 

Oh,  if  our  ears  were  opened 

To  hear  as  angels  do 
The  Intercession-chorus 

Arising  full  and  true, 
We  should  hear  it  soft  up-welling 

In  morning's  pearly  light, 
Through  evening's  shadows  swelling 

In  grandly  gathering  might, 
The  sultry  silence  filling 

Of  noontide's  thunderous  glow, 
And  the  solemn  starlight  thrilling 

With  ever  deepening  flow. 

We  should  hear  it  through  the  rushin? 

Of  the  city's  restless  roar, 
And  trace  its  gentle  gushing 

O'er  ocean's  crystal  floor  : 
We  should  hear  it  far  up-floating 

Beneath  the  Orient  moon, 


,S4  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW.' 

And  catch  the  golden  noting 

From  the  busy  Western  noon, 
And  pine-robed  heights  would  echo 

As  the  mystic  chant  up-floats, 
And  the  sunny  plain  resound  again 

With  the  myriad-mingling  notes. 

Who  are  the  blessed  ministers 

Of  this  world-gathering  band  ? 
All  who  have  learnt  One  Language, 

Through  each  far-parted  land ; 
All  who  have  learnt  the  story 

Of  Jesu's  love  and  grace, 
And  are  longing  for  His  glory 

To  shine  in  every  face. 
All  who  have  known  the  Father 

In  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord, 
And  know  the  might  and  love  the  light 

Of  the  Spirit  in  the  Word. 

Yet  there  are  some  who  see  not 

Their  calling  high  and  grand, 
Who  seldom  pass  the  portals, 

And  never  boldly  stand 
Before  the  golden  altar 

On  the  crimson-stainbd  floor, 
Who  wait  afar  and  falter. 

And  dare  not  hope  for  more.  | 

Will  ye  not  join  the  blessed  ranks 

In  their  beautiful  array  ?  - 

Let  intercession  blend  with  thanks  " 

As  ye  mmister  to-day  I 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  INTERCESSION.  785 


There  are  little  ones  among  them, 

Child-ministers  of  prayer, 
White  robes  of  intercession 

Those  tiny  servants  wear. 
First  for  the  near  and  dear  ones 

Is  that  fair  ministr}-, 
Then  for  the  poor  black  children, 

So  far  beyond  the  sea. 
The  busy  hands  are  folded, 

As  the  little  heart  uplifts 
In  simple  love,  to  God  above, 

Its  prayer  for  all  good  gifts. 

There  are  hands  too  often  weary 

With  the  business  of  the  day, 
With  God-entrusted  duties, 

Who  are  toiling  while  they  pray. 
They  bear  the  golden  vials, 

And  the  golden  harps  of  praise, 
Through  all  the  daily  trials, 

Through  all  the  dusty  ways. 
These  hands,  so  tired,  so  faithful, 

With  odours  sweet  are  filled, 
And  in  the  ministry  of  prayer 

Are  wonderfully  skilled. 

There  are  ministers  unlettered, 
Not  of  Earth's  great  and  wise, 

Yet  mighty  and  unfettered 
Their  eagle-prayers  arise. 

Free  of  the  heavenly  storehouse  ! 
They  hold  the  master-key 
3D 


7S6  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 

That  opens  all  the  fulness 

Of  God's  great  treasury. 
They  bring  the  needs  of  others, 

And  all  things  are  their  own, 
For  their  one  grand  claim  is  Jesu's  name 

Before  their  Father's  throne. 

There  are  noble  Christian  workers, 

The  men  of  faith  and  power, 
The  overcoming  -wrestlers 

Of  many  a  midnight  hour  ; 
Prevaihng  princes  with  their  God, 

Who  will  not  be  denied, 
Who  bring  down  showers  of  blessing 

To  swell  the  rising  tide. 
The  Prince  of  Darkness  quaileth 

At  their  triumphant  way, 
Their  fervent  prayer  availeth 

To  sap  his  subtle  sway. 

But  in  this  Temple-service 

Are  sealed  and  set  apart 
Arch-priests  of  intercession, 

Of  undivided  heart. 
The  fulness  of  anointing 

On  these  is  doubly  shed, 
The  consecration  of  their  God 

Is  on  each  low-bowed  head. 
They  bear  the  golden  vials 

With  white  and  trembling  hand 
In  quiet  room  or  wakeful  gloom 

These  ministers  must  stand, — 


\ 


THE  MINISTRY  OF  INTERCESSION.  787 


To  the  Intercession-Priesthood 

Mysteriously  ordained, 
When  the  strange  dark  gift  of  suffering 

This  added  gift  hath  gained. 
For  the  holy  hands  uplifted 

In  suffering's  longest  hour 
Are  truly  Spirit-gifted 

With  intercession-power. 
The  Lord  of  Blessing  fills  them 

With  His  uncounted  gold, 
An  unseen  store,  still  more  and  more, 

Those  trembling  hands  shall  hold. 


'& 


Not  always  with  rejoicing 

This  ministry  is  wrought, 
For  many  a  sigh  is  mingled 

With  the  sweet  odours  brought. 
Yet  every  tear  bedewing 

The  faith-fed  altar  fire 
May  be  its  bright  renewing 

To  purer  flame,  and  higher. 
But  when  the  oil  of  gladness 

God  graciously  outpours. 
The  heavenward  blaze  with  blended  praise 

More  mightily  upsoars. 

So  the  incense-cloud  ascendeth 

As  through  calm  crystal  air, 
A  pillar  reaching  unto  heaven, 

Of  wreathttd  faith  and  prayer. 
For  evermore  the  Angel 

Of  Intercession  stands 


7SS  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


In  His  Divine  High  Priesthood. 

With  fragrance-fiUbd  hands, 
To  wave  the  golden  censer 

Before  His  Father's  throne, 
With  Spirit-fire  intenser, 

And  incense  all  His  own. 

And  evermore  the  Father 

Sends  radiantly  down 
All-marvellous  responses, 

His  ministers  to  crown  ; 
The  incense-cloud  returning 

As  golden  blessing-showers, 
We  in  each  drop  discerning 

Some  feeble  prayer  of  ours, 
Transmuted  into  wealth  unpriced, 

By  Him  who  giveth  thus 
The  glory  all  to  Jesus  Christ, 

The  gladness  all  to  us  ! 


*3free  to  Serve.' 

She  chose  His  service.     For  the  Lord  of  Love 
Had  chosen  her,  and  paid  the  awful  price 
For  her  redemption  ;  and  had  sought  her  out, 
And  set  her  free,  and  clothed  her  gloriously, 
And  put  His  royal  ring  upon  her  hand, 
And  crowns  of  loving-kindness  on  her  head. 
She  chose  it.     Yet  it  seemed  she  could  not  yield 
The  fuller  measure  other  lives  could  bring ; 


'FREE  TO  serve:  7S9 


For  He  had  given  her  a  precious  gift, 

A  treasure  and  a  charge  to  prize  and  keep, 

A  tiny  hand,  a  darhng  hand,  that  traced 

On  her  heart's  tablet  words  of  golden  love. 

And  there  was  not  much  room  for  other  lines, 

For  time  and  thought  were  spent  (and  rightly  spent, 

For  He  had  given  the  charge),  and  houis  and  days 

Were  concentrated  on  the  one  dear  task. 


But  He  had  need  of  her.     Not  one  new  gem. 
But  many,  for  His  crown ; — not  one  fair  sheaf. 
But  many,  she  should  bring.     And  she  should  have 
A  richer,  happier  harvest-home  at  last. 
Because  more  fruit,  more  glory,  and  more  praise, 
Her  life  should  yield  to  Him.     And  so  He  came, 
The  Master  came  Himself,  and  gently  took 
The  little  hand  in  His,  and  gave  it  room 
Among  the  angel-harpers.     Jesus  came 
And  laid  His  own  hand  on  the  quivering  heart, 
And  made  it  very  still,  that  He  might  write 
Invisible  words  of  power — '  Free  to  serve  ! ' 
Then  through  the  darkness  and  the  chill  He  sent 
A  heat-ray  of  His  love,  developing 
The  mystic  writing,  till  it  glowed  and  shone 
And  lit  up  all  her  life  with  radiance  new, — 
The  happy  service  of  a  yielded  heart. 
With  comfort  that  He  never  ceased  to  give, 
Because  her  need  could  never  cease,  she  filled 
The  empty  chalices  of  other  lives. 
And  time  and  thought  were  thenceforth  spent  for  Him 
Who  loved  her  with  His  everlasting  love. 


790  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


Let  Him  write  what  He  will  upon  our  hearts 
With  His  unerring  pen.     They  are  His  own, 
Hewn  from  the  rock  by  His  selecting  grace, 
Prepared  for  His  own  glory.     Let  Him  write  ! 
Be  sure  He  will  not  cross  out  one  sweet  word 
But  to  inscribe  a  sweeter, — but  to  grave 
One  that  shall  shine  for  ever  to  His  praise, 
And  thus  fulfil  our  deepest  heart-desire. 
The  tearful  eye  at  first  may  read  the  line 
'  Bondage  to  grief ! '  but  He  shall  wipe  away 
The  tears,  and  clear  the  vision,  till  it  read 
In  ever-brightening  letters,  '  Free  to  serve  1 ' 
For  whom  the  Son  makes  free  is  free  indeed. 


Nor  only  by  reclaiming  His  good  gifts, 
But  by  withholding,  doth  the  Master  write 
These  words  upon  the  heart.     Not  always  needs 
Erasure  of  some  blessed  line  of  love 
For  this  more  blest  inscription.     Where  He  finds 
A  tablet  empty  for  the  'lines  left  out,' 
That  '  might  have  been  '  engraved  with  human  love 
And  sweetest  human  cares,  yet  never  bore 
That  poetry  of  life,  His  own  dear  hand 
Writes  '  Free  to  serve  ! '     And  these  clear  characters 
Fill  with  fair  colours  all  the  unclaimed  space, 
Else  grey  and  colourless. 

Then  let  it  be 
The  motto  of  our  lives  until  we  stand 
In  the  great  freedom  of  Eternity, 
Where  we  '  shall  serve  Him '  while  we  see  His  face, 
For  ever  and  for  ever  '  Free  to  serve.' 


COMING  TO  THE  KING.  791 


Coming  to  tbe  IktuG* 

2  Chron.  ix.  1-12. 

I  CAME  from  very  far  away  to  see 

The  King  of  Salem  \  for  I  had  been  told 
Of  glory  and  of  wisdom  manifold, 
And  condescension  infinite  and  free. 
How  could  I  rest,  when  I  had  heard  His  fame, 
In  that  dark  lonely  land  of  death  from  whence  I  came  ? 

I  came  (but  not  like  Sheba's  Queen),  alone  ! 
No  stately  train,  no  costly  gifts  to  bring ; 
No  friend  at  court,  save  One,  that  One  the  King  ! 
I  had  requests  to  spread  before  His  throne. 
And  I  had  questions  none  could  solve  for  me, 
Of  import  deep,  and  full  of  awful  mystery. 

I  came  .md  communed  with  that  mighty  King, 
And  told  Him  all  my  heart ;  I  cannot  say. 
In  mortal  ear,  what  communings  were  they. 
But  wouldst  thou  know,  go  too,  and  meekly  bring 
All  that  is  in  thy  heart,  and  thou  shalt  hear 
His  voice  of  love  and  power,  His  answers  sweet  and  clear. 

O  happy  end  of  every  weary  quest ! 

He  told  me  all  I  needed,  graciously ; — 
Enough  for  guidance,  and  for  victory 
O'er  doubts  and  fears,  enough  for  quiet  rest ; 
And  when  some  veiled  response  I  could  not  read. 
It  was  not  hid  from  Him, — this  was  enough  indeed. 


792  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


His  wisdom  and  His  glories  passed  before 
My  wondering  eyes  in  gradual  revelation  ; 
The  house  that  He  had  built,  its  strong  foundation, 
Its  living  stones ;  and,  brightening  more  and  more, 
Fair  glimpses  of  that  palace  far  away, 
Where  all  His  loyal  ones  shall  dwell  with  Him  for  aye. 

True  the  report  that  reached  my  far-off  land 
Of  all  His  wisdom  and  transcendent  fame  ; 
Yet  I  believed  not  until  I  came, — 
Bowed  to  the  dust  till  raised  by  royal  hand. 
The  half  was  never  told  by  mortal  word ; 
My  King  exceeded  all  the  fame  that  I  had  heard  I 

Oh,  happy  are  His  servants  !  happy  they 
Who  stand  continually  before  His  face, 
Ready  to  do  His  will  of  wisest  grace  ! 
My  King  !  is  mine  such  blessedness  to-day  ? 
For  I  too  hear  Thy  wisdom,  line  by  line. 
Thy  ever-brightening  words  in  holy  radiance  shine. 

Oh,  blessed  be  the  Lord  thy  God  !  who  set 
Our  King  upon  His  throne.     Divine  delight 
In  the  Belovbd  crowning  Thee  with  might, 
Honour,  and  majesty  supreme  ;  and  yet 
The  strange  and  Godhke  secret  opening  thus, — 
The  kingship  of  His  Christ  ordained  through  love  to  us  \ 

What  shall  I  render  to  my  glorious  King  ? 

I  have  but  that  which  I  receive  from  Thee ;  J 

And  what  I  give.  Thou  givest  back  to  me,  I 

Transmuted  by  Thy  touch  ,  each  worthless  thin?  ' 

Changed  to  the  preciousness  of  gem  or  gold, 
And  by  Thy  blessing  multiplied  a  thousand-fold. 


REALITY.  793 


All  my  desire  Thou  grantest,  whatsoe'er 
I  ask  !     Was  ever  mythic  tale  or  dream 
So  bold  as  this  reality, — this  stream 
Of  boundless  blessings  flowing  full  and  free  ? 
Yet  more  than  I  have  thought  or  asked  of  Thee, 
Out  of  Thy  royal  bounty  still  Thou  givest  me. 

Now  I  will  turn  to  my  own  land,  and  tell 
What  I  myself  have  seen  and  heard  of  Thee, 
And  give  Thine  own  sweet  message,  '  Come  and  see  ! ' 
And  yet  in  heart  and  mind  for  ever  dwell 
With  Thee,  my  King  of  Peace,  in  loyal  rest, 
Within  the  fair  pavilion  of  Thy  presence  blest. 

'  Surely  in  what  place  my  Lord  the  King  shall  be,  whether  in  death  oi 
life,  even  there  also  will  thy  servant  be. ' — 2  Sam.  xv.  21. 

'Where  I  am,  there  shall  also  My  servant  be. '—John  xii.  26. 


IRealit^. 

•Father,  we  know  the  REALITY  of  Jesus  Christ.'— 
Words  used  by  a  workman  in  prayer."^ 

Reality,  reality, 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  Thou  art  to  me  ! 
From  the  spectral  mists  and  driving  clouds, 
From  the  shifting  shadows  and  phantom  crowds ; 

1  '  At  another  prayer  meeting  on  the  same  day  a  young  Christian  who 
had  been  witnessing  for  this  '  reality '  among  those  who  called  religion  a 
'phantom'  and  a  'sham'  prayed  earnestly,  'Lord  Jesus,  let  Thy  dear 
servant  write  for  us  what  Thou  art — Thou  living,  bright  Reality  I'  And, 
urging  His  plea  with  increasing  vehemence,  he  added,  'and  let  her  do  it 
this  very  night.''  That  'very  night'  these  verses  were  flashed  into  my 
mind  ;  while  he  was  'yet  speaking,'  they  were  written  and  dated.  Does 
cot  this  show  the  '  reality  of  prayer  '< ' 


794  •  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


b^J 


From  unreal  words  and  unreal  lives, 
Where  truth  with  falsehood  feebly  strives ; 
From  the  passings  away,  the  chance  and  change, 
Flickerings,  vanishings,  swift  and  strange, 

I  turn  to  my  glorious  rest  on  Thee, 

Who  art  the  grand  Reality. 

Reality  in  greatest  need, 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  Thou  art  indeed  ! 
Is  the  pilot  real,  who  alone  can  guide 
The  drifting  ship  through  the  midnight  tide  ? 
Is  the  lifeboat  real,  as  it  nears  the  wreck. 
And  the  saved  ones  leap  from  the  parting  deck  ? 
Is  the  haven  real,  where  the  barque  may  flee 
From  the  autumn  gales  of  the  wild  North  Sea? 
Reality  indeed  art  Thou, 
My  Pilot,  Lifeboat,  Haven  now ! 

Reality,  reality, 

In  brightest  days  art  Thou  to  me  ! 
Thou  art  the  sunshine  of  my  mirth, 
Thou  art  the  heaven  above  my  earth, 
The  spring  of  the  love  of  all  my  heart, 
And  the  Fountain  of  my  song  Thou  art ; 
For  dearer  than  the  dearest  now, 
And  better  than  the  best,  art  Thou, 

Beloved  Lord,  in  whom  I  see 

Joy-giving,  glad  Reality. 

Reality,  reality, 
Lord  Jesus,  Thou  hast  been  to  me. 
When  I  thought  the  dream  of  life  was  past, 
And  '  the  Master's  home-call '  come  at  last  \ 


REALITY.  795 

When  I  thought  I  only  had  to  "vait 

A  httle  while  at  the  Golden  Gate, — 

Only  another  day  or  two, 

Till  Thou  Thyself  shouldst  bear  me  through, 

How  real  Thy  presence  was  to  me 

How  precious  Thy  Reality ! 

Reality,  reality, 

Lord  Jesus  Christ,  Thou  art  to  me  ! 
Thy  name  is  sweeter  than  songs  of  old, 
Thy  words  are  better  than  *  most  fine  gold,* 
Thy  deeds  are  greater  than  hero-glory, 
Thy  life  is  grander  than  poet-story ; 
But  Thou,  Thyself,  for  aye  the  same. 
Art  more  than  words  and  life  and  name  ! 

Thyself  Thou  hast  revealed  to  me, 

In  glorious  Reality. 

Reality,  reality, 

Lord  Jesus  Christ,  is  crowned  in  Thee. 
In  Thee  is  every  type  fulfilled, 
In  Thee  is  every  yearning  stilled 
For  perfect  beauty,  truth,  and  love ; 
For  Thou  art  always  far  above 
The  grandest  glimpse  of  our  Ideal, 
Yet  more  and  more  we  know  Thee  real, 

And  marvel  more  and  more  to  see 

Thine  infinite  Reality. 

Reality,  reality 
Of  erace  and  glory  dwells  in  Thee. 


796  «  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


How  real  Thy  mercy  and  Thy  might ! 

How  real  Thy  love,  how  real  Thy  light ! 

How  real  Thy  truth  and  faithfulness  ! 

How  real  Thy  blessing  when  Thou  dost  bless  I 

How  real  Thy  coming  to  dwell  within  ! 

How  real  the  triumphs  Thou  dost  win ! 
Does  not  the  loving  and  glowing  heart 
Leap  up  to  own  how  real  Thou  art  ? 

Reality,  reality  ! 
Such  let  our  adoration  be ! 
Father,  we  bless  Thee  with  heart  and  voice, 
For  the  wondrous  grace  of  Thy  sovereign  choicfc. 
That  patiently,  gently,  sought  us  out 
In  the  far-off  land  of  death  and  doubt, 
That  drew  us  to  Christ  by  the  Spirit's  might, 
That  opened  our  eyes  to  see  the  light 
That  arose  in  strange  reality, 
From  the  darkness  falling  on  Calvary. 

Reality,  reality, 

Lord  Jesus  Christ,  Thou  art  to  me  ! 
My  glorious  King,  my  Lord,  my  God, 
Life  is  too  short  for  half  the  laud, 
For  half  the  debt  of  praise  I  owe 
For  this  blest  knowledge,  that  '  I  know 
The  reahty  of  Jesus  Christ,' — 
Unmeasured  blessing,  gift  unpriced  1 

Will  I  not  praise  Thee  when  I  see 

In  the  long  noon  of  Eternity, 

Unveiled,  Thy  '  bright  Reality  i ' 


FAR  MORE  EXCEEDING.  797 

«»fl'  ia-i{/3«An»  t'f  iwii^txh. — 2  Cor.  iv.  17. 

•  From  glory  unto  glory  ! '     Thank  God,  that  even  here 
The  starry  words  are  shining  out,  our  heavenward  way  to 

cheer ! 
That  e'en  among  the  shadows  the  conquering  brightness 

glows, 
As  ever  from  the  nearing  Light  intenser  radiance  flows. 

*From  glory  unto   glory!'     Shall  the  grand   progression 

fail 
When  the  darkening  glass  is  shattered  as  we  pass  within 

the  veil  ? 
Shall  the  joyous  song  of  '  Onward  ! '  at  once  for  ever  cease, 
And  the  swelling  music  culminate  in  monotone  of  peace  ? 

Shall  the  fuller  life  be  sundered  at  the  portal  of  its  bliss. 
From  the  principle  of  growth  entwined  with  every  nerve  of 

this? 
Shall  the  holy  law  of  progress  be  hopelessly  repealed, 
And  the  moment  of  releasing  see  our  sum  of  glory  sealed  ? 

The  tender  touch  of  moonlight,  with  an  orbit  quickly  run, 
The  lustre  of  the  planet,  circling  slowly  round  the  sun, 
The  mighty  revolutions  of  its  miUion-heated  blaze, 

•  From  glory  unto  glory '  lead  our  far-expanding  gaze. 

Then  onward,  ever  onward,  through  the  unexplored  abyss 
(Dark  barrier  between  the  suns  of  other  worlds  and  this), 


798  '  UNDER  HIS  SHA DOW.' 

Until  the  measure-unit  mocks  the  grasp  of  human  thought, 
And  space  and  time  commingle  while  the  clue  is  feebly 
sought. 

Till,  in  that  wider  ocean,  deep  calleth  unto  deep, 
Star-glories  with   attendant  worlds,  forth-flashing  as  they 

sweep 
Around  their  unseen  centre,  that  point  of  mystic  power, 
In  unimagined  cycles,  where  an  age  is  but  an  hour. 

Then !   onward  and  yet  onward !  for  the  dim  revealings 

show 
That  systems  unto  systems  in  grand  succession  grow, 
That  what  we  deemed  a  volume   but   one   golden  verse 

may  be, 
One  rhythmic  cadence  in  the  flow  of  God's  great  poetry. 

That  what  we  deemed  a  symphony  was  one  all-thrilling 

bar, 
Through  aisles  of  His  great  temple  resounding  full  and 

far; 
That  what  we  deemed  an  ocean  was  a  shallow  by  the 

shore ! 
Then  !  onward  yet,  in  eagle  flight,  through  the  Infinite  we 

soar — 

•  From  glory  unto  glory,'  till  the  spirit  fails ;  and  then 
Illimitable  vistas  still  opening  to  our  ken. 
Mysterious  immensities  of  order  and  of  light. 
Stretch  far  beyond  our  farthest  thought,  as  thought  beyond 
our  sight. 


FAR  MORE  EXCEEDING.  799 

But  the  starting-point  in  heaven  shall  be  no  '  glory  of  the 

moon,' 
No  planet  gleam,  no  stellar  fire,  no  blaze  of  tropic  noon  ; 
From  '  glory  that   excelleth '  all  that   human   heart  hath 

known, 
Our  '  onward,  upward,'  shall  begin  in  the  presence  of  the 

Throne. 


'  From  glory  unto  glory '  of  loveliness  and  light. 
Of  music  and  of  rapture,  of  power  and  of  sight, 
'  From  glory  unto  glory '  of  knowledge  and  of  love, 
Shall  be  the  joy  of  progress  awaiting  us  above. 

*  From  glory  unto  glory '  that  ever  lies  before. 
Still  wondering,  adoring,  rejoicing  more  and  more, 

Still  following  where   He  leadeth,  from   shining  field  to 

field, 
Himself  the  goal  of  glory,  Revealer  and  Revealed ! 

*  From  glory  unto  glory '  with  no  limit  and  no  veil. 

With  wings  that  cannot  weary  and  hearts  that  cannot  fail  j 
Within,  without,  no  hindrance,  no  barrier  as  we  soar ; 
And  never  interruption  to  the  endless  '  more  and  more ' ! 

For  infinite  outpourings  of  Jehovah's  love  and  grace, 
And  infinite  unveilings  of  the  brightness  of  His  face, 
And  infinite  unfoldings  of  the  splendour  of  His  will. 
Meet  the  mightiest  expansions  of  the  finite  spirit  still. 


8oo  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


O  Saviour,  hast  Thou  ransomed  us  from  death's  unknown 

abyss, 
And  purchased  with  Thy  precious  blood  such  everlasting 

bliss  ? 
Art  Thou  indeed  preparing  us,  with  love  exceeding  great, 
And   preparing   all   this    glory   in    such    'far    exceeding 

weight '  ? 

Then  let  our  hearts  be  surely  fixed  where  truest  joys  are 

found. 
And  let  our  burning,  loving  praise,  yet  more  and  more 

abound  ; 
And,   gazing   on   the   'things   not   seen,'  eternal   in   the 

skies, 
•  From  glory  unto  glory,'  O  Saviour,  let  us  rise ! 


Ube  Splendour  qI  <^q>^'s  Mill/ 

In  the  freshness  of  the  spring-time, 

In  the  beauty  of  the  May, 
When  the  swift-winged  breezes  carolled, 

And  the  lambs  were  all  at  play. 
And  the  birds  were  blithe  and  busy, 

Upon  her  couch  she  lay. 

Like  a  lily  bruised  and  drooping, 

Before  its  early  flower 
Had  fully  opened  to  the  sun, 

Or  reached  a  noontide  hour ; 
Broken  and  yet  more  fragrant 

For  the  heavy-beating  shower. 


•  THE  SPLENDOUR  OF  GOD'S  WILL.  Soi 

It  was  not  the  first  spring-time 

Passed  without  one  glad  sight 
Of  a  starry  primrose  growing, 

Or  a  brooklet  swift  and  bright, 
And  without  one  bounding  footstep 

On  a  field  with  daisies  white. 

It  was  not  the  first  spring-time — 

And  it  might  not  be  the  last     , 
In  weariness  and  suffering 

Thus  to  be  slowly  passed ; 
For  when  the  young  feet  cannot  move 

Months  do  not  travel  fast. 

And  yet  she  saw  what  others 

Have  never  sought  or  seen, 
A  splendour  more  than  spring-light 

On  fair  trees  waving  green, 
And  more  than  summer  sunshine 

On  Ocean's  silver  sheen. 

Her  pencil,  tracing  feebly 

Words  that  shall  echo  still, 
Perchance  some  unknown  mission 

May  joyously  fulfil : — 
*I  think  I  just  begin  to  see 

The  spleitdour  of  God's  will  1 ' 

O  words  of  golden  music 

Caught  from  the  harps  on  high, 
Which  find  a  glorious  anthem 

Where  we  have  found  a  sigh, 
And  peal  their  grandest  praises 

Just  where  ours  faint  and  die  I 
3  E 


go2  '  UNDER  HIS  shadow: 


O  words  of  holy  radiance 

Shining  on  every  tear, 
Till  it  becomes  a  rainbow, 

Reflecting,  bright  and  clear, 
Our  Father's  love  and  glory 

So  wonderful,  so  dear ! 

O  words  of  sparkling  power, 
Of  insight  full  and  deep  ! 

Shall  they  not  enter  other  hearts 
In  a  grand  and  gladsome  sweep, 

And  lift  the  lives  to  songs  of  joy 
That  only  droop  and  weep  ? 

For  her,  God's  will  was  suffering, 
Just  waiting,  lying  still ! 

Days  passing  on  in  weariness, 
In  shadows  deep  and  chill ; 

And  yet  she  had  begun  to  see 
The  Splendour  of  God's  Will  1 

And  oh,  it  is  a  splendour, 

A  glow  of  majesty, 
A  mystery  of  beauty, 

If  we  will  only  see ; 
A  very  cloud  of  glory 

Enfolding  you  and  me. 

A  splendour  that  is  lighted 
At  one  transcendent  flamt, 


'  THE  SPLENDOUR  OF  GOD'S  WILL.  So" 


The  wondrous  Love,  the  perfect  Love, 
Our  Father's  sweetest  name ; 

For  His  very  Name,  and  Essence, 
And  His  Will  are  all  the  same  1 

A  splendour  that  is  shining 

Upon  His  children's  way; 
That  guides  the  willing  footsteps 

That  do  not  want  to  stray, 
And  that  leads  them  ever  onward 

Unto  the  perfect  day. 

A  splendour  that  illumines, 

Th'  abysses  of  the  Past 
And  marvels  of  the  Future, 

Sublime  and  bright  and  vast ; 
While  o'er  our  tiny  Present 

A  flood  of  light  is  cast. 

No  twilight  falls  upon  it, 

No  shadow  dims  its  ray. 
No  darkness  overcomes  it. 

No  night  can  end  its  day ; 
It  hath  unending  triumph 

And  everlasting  sway. 

Blest  Will  of  God !  most  glorious, 

The  very  fount  of  grace, 
Whence  all  the  goodness  flowcth 

That  heart  can  ever  trace — 
Temple  whose  pinnacles  are  love, 

And  faithfulness  its  base. 


go^  «  UNDER  HIS  shadow: 


Blest  Will  of  God  !  Nvhose  splendour 

Is  dawning  on  the  world, 
On  hearts  in  which  Christ's  banner 

Is  manfully  unfurled, 
On  hearts  of  childlike  meekness, 

With  dew  of  youth  impearled. 

O  Spirit  of  Jehovah, 

Reveal  this  glory  still ! 
That  many  an  empty  chalice 

Sweet  thanks  and  praise  may  fill, 
When,  like  this  '  Httle  one,'  they  see 

« The  Splendour  of  God's  Will : ' 

That  faith  may  win  the  vision 
That  hers  hath  early  won. 

And  gaze  upon  the  splendour, 
And  own  the  cloudless  sun, 

And  join  the  seraph  song  of  love, 
And  sing—'  Thy  Will  be  done !' 


Ube  trwo  lp»atbs, 

VIA  DOLOROSA  AND  VIA  GIOJOSA. 
{Suggested  by  a  Picture. ) 

Mv  Master,  they  have  wronged  Thee  and  Thy  love  1 

They  only  told  me  I  should  find  the  path 

A  Via  Dolorosa  all  the  way  ! 

Even  Thy  sweetest  singers  only  sang 

Of  pressing  onward  through  the  same  sharp  thorns, 


THE  TWO  PATHS.  805 


With  bleeding  footsteps,  through  the  chiil  dark  mist, 

Following  and  struggling  till  they  reach  the  light, 

The  rest,  the  sunshine  of  the  far  beyond. 

The  anthems  of  the  pilgrimage  were  set 

In  most  pathetic  minors,  exquisite, 

Yet  breathing  sadness  more  than  any  praise. 

Thy  minstrels  let  the  fitful  breezes  make 

^olian  moans  on  their  entrusted  harps. 

Until  the  listeners  thought  that  this  was  all 

The  music  Thou  hadst  given.     And  so  the  steps 

That  halted  where  the  two  ways  met  and  crossed, 

The  broad  and  narrow,  turned  aside  in  fear, 

Thinking  the  radiance  of  their  youth  must  pass 

In  sombre  shadows  if  they  followed  Thee ; 

Hearing  afar  such  echoes  of  one  strain, 

The  cross,  the  tribulation,  and  the  toil. 

The  conflict,  and  the  clinging  in  the  dark. 

What  wonder  that  the  dancing  feet  are  stayed 

From  entering  the  only  path  of  peace  ! 

Master,  forgive  them  !     Tune  their  harps  anew, 

And  put  a  new  song  in  their  mouths  for  Thee, 

And  make  Thy  chosen  people  joyful  in  Thy  love. 

Lord  Jesus,  Thou  hast  trodden  once  for  all 
The  Via  Dolorosa, — and  for  us  ! 
No  artist-power  or  minstrel-gift  may  tell 
The  cost  to  Thee  of  each  unfaltering  step. 
Where  love  that  passeth  knowledge  led  Thee  on, 
Faithful  and  true  to  God,  and  true  to  us. 

And  now,  beloved  Lord,  Thou  callest  us 
To  follow  Thee,  and  we  will  take  Thy  word 
About  the  path  which  Thou  hast  marked  for  us. 
Narrow  indeed  it  is  1     Who  does  not  choose 


8o6  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 

The  narrow  track  upon  the  mountain-side, 
With  ever-widening  view,  and  freshening  air, 
And  honeyed  heather,  rather  than  the  road, 
With  smoothest  breadth  of  dust  and  loss  of  view, 
Soiled  blossoms  not  worth  gathering,  and  the  noise 
Of  wheels  instead  of  silence  of  the  hills, 
Or  music  of  the  waterfalls  ?     Oh,  why 
Should  they  misrepresent  Thy  words,  and  make 
*  Narrow '  synonymous  with  '  very  hard '  ? 

For  Thou,  Divinest  Wisdom,  Thou  hast  said 
Thy  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all 
Thy  paths  are  peace ;  and  that  the  path  of  him 
Who  wears  Thy  perfect  robe  of  righteousness, 
Is  as  the  light  that  shineth  more  and  more 
Unto  the  perfect  day.     And  Thou  hast  given 
An  olden  promise,  rarely  quoted  now,^ 
Because  it  is  too  bright  for  our  weak  faith  : 
'  If  they  obey  and  serve  Him,  they  shall  spend 
Days  in  prosperity,  and  they  shall  spend 
Their  years  in  pleasures.'     All  because  Thy  days 
Were  full  of  sorrow,  and  Thy  lonely  years 
Were  passed  in  griefs  acquaintance — all  for  us  ! 

Master,  I  set  my  seal  that  Thou  art  true  ! 
Of  Thy  good  promise  not  one  thing  hath  failed, 
And  I  would  send  a  ringing  challenge  forth, 
To  all  who  know  Thy  name,  to  tell  it  out, 
Thy  faithfulness  to  every  written  word, 
Thy  loving-kindness  crowning  all  the  days, — 
To  say  and  sing  with  me  :  '  The  Lord  is  good, 
His  mercy  is  for  ever,  and  His  truth 
Is  written  on  each  page  of  all  my  life  1  * 

^Jobxxvi.  IX. 


SUN  DA  Y  NIGHT.  So; 


Yes  !  there  is  tribulation,  but  Thy  power 

Can  blend  it  with  rejoicing.     There  are  thorns, 

But  they  have  kept  us  in  the  narrow  way. 

The  King's  highway  of  holiness  and  peace. 

And  there  is  chastening,  but  the  Father's  love 

Flows  through  it ;  and  would  any  trusting  heart 

Forego  the  chastening  and  forego  the  love  ? 

And  every  step  leads  on  to  '  more  and  more,' — 

From  strength  to  strength  Thy  pilgrims  pass,  and  sin 

The  praise  of  Him  who  leads  them  on  and  on, 

From  glory  unto  glory,  even  here ! 

Rest  him,  O  Father  !     Thou  didst  send  him  forth 
With  great  and  gracious  messages  of  love ; 
But  Thy  ambassador  is  weary  now. 
Worn  with  the  weight  of  his  high  embassy. 
Now  care  for  him  as  Thou  hast  cared  for  us 
In  sending  him ;  and  cause  him  to  lie  down 
In  Thy  fresh  pastures,  by  Thy  streams  of  peace. 
Let  Thy  left  hand  be  now  beneath  his  head. 
And  Thine  upholding  right  encircle  him, 
And,  underneath,  the  Everlasting  arms 
Be  felt  in  full  support.     So  let  him  rest. 
Hushed  like  a  little  child,  without  one  care, 
And  so  give  Thy  belovfed  sleep  to-night 

Rest  him,  dear  Master  !     He  hath  poured  for  us 
The  wine  of  joy,  and  we  have  been  refreshed. 
Now  fill  his  chalice,  give  him  sweet  new  draughts 
Of  life  and  love,  with  Thine  own  hand ;  be  Thou 


8o8  UNDER  HIS  SHAD  0  W. ' 

His  ministrant  to-night ;  draw  very  near 

In  all  Thy  tenderness  and  all  Thy  power. 

Oh  speak  to  him  !     Thou  knowest  how  to  speak 

A  word  in  season  to  Thy  weary  ones, 

And  he  is  weary  now.     Thou  lovest  him — 

Let  Thy  disciple  lean  upon  Thy  breast, 

And,  leaning,  gain  new  strength  to  '  rise  and  shine.' 

Rest  him,  O  loving  Spirit !     Let  Thy  calm 
Fall  on  his  soul  to-night.     O  holy  Dove, 
Spread  Thy  bright  wing  above  him,  let  him  rest 
Beneath  its  shadow ;  let  him  know  afresh 
The  infinite  truth  and  might  of  Thy  dear  name — 
'  Our  Comforter ! '     As  gentlest  touch  will  stay 
The  strong  vibrations  of  a  jarring  chord, 
So  lay  Thy  hand  upon  his  heart,  and  still 
Each  overstraining  throb,  each  pulsing  pain. 
Then,  in  the  stillness,  breathe  upon  the  strings, 
And  let  Thy  holy  music  overflow 
With  soothing  power  his  listening,  resting  souL 


Iprccfous  trbfnos, 
I. 

Oh  what  shining  revelation  of  His  treasures  God  hath 

given ! 
Precious  things  of  grace  and  glory,  precious  things  of  earth 

and  heaven. 
Holy  Spirit,  now  unlock  them  with  Thy  mighty  golden 

key, 
Royal  jewels  of  the  kingdom  let  us  now  adoring  see  1 


PRECIOUS  THINGS.  809 

II. 

'  Unto  you  therefore  which  believe,  He  is  precious.' — i  Pet.  ii.  7. 

Christ  is  precious,  oh  most  precious,  gift  by  God  the  Father 
sealed ; 

Pearl  of  greatest  price  and  treasure,  hidden,  yet  to  us  re- 
vealed ; 

His  own  people's  crown  of  glory,  and  resplendent  diadem ; 

More  than  thousand  worlds,  and  dearer  than  all  life  and 
love  to  them. 

III. 
'  Behold,  I  lay  in  Zion  a  chief  comer  stone,  elect,  precious.' — i  Pet.  il  6. 

Marvellous  and  very  precious  is  the  Corner  Stone  Elect ; 
Though  rejected  by  the  builders,  chosen  by  the  Architect ; 
All-supporting,  all-uniting,  and  all-crowning,  tried  and  sure ; 
True  Foundation,  yet  true  Headstone  of  His  temple  bright 
and  pure. 

IV. 

'  Ye  know  that  ye  were  not  redeemed  with  corruptible  things,  .  .  .  but 
with  the  precious  blood  of  Christ,  as  of  a  lamb  without  blemish  and  with- 
out spot' — I  Pet.  i,  18,  19. 

Now,  in  reverent  love  and  wonder,  touch  the  theme  of 

deepest  laud. 
Precious  blood  of  Christ  that  bought  us  and  hath  made 

us  nigh  to  God  ! 
His  own  blood,  O  love  unfathomed  !  shed  for  those  who 

loved  Him  not ; 
Mighty  fountain  always  open,  cleansing  us  from  every  spot 


gio  *  UNDER  HIS  shadow: 


V. 

'  How  precious  also  are  Thy  thoughts  unto  me,  O  God  !  how  great  is 
the  sum  of  them  I ' — Ps.  cxxxix.  17. 

Oh,  how  wonderful  and  precious  are  Thy  thoughts  to  us, 

O  God! 
Outlined  in  Creation,  blazoned  on  Redemption's  banner 

broad  ; 
Infinite  and  deep  and  dazzling  as  the  noontide  heavens 

above ; 
Yet  more  wonderful  to  usward  are  Thy  thoughts  of  peace 

and  love. 

VI. 

'  Whereby  are  given  unto  us  exceeding  great  and  precious  promises, 
that  by  these  ye  might  be  partakers  of  the  divine  nature.'— 2  Pet.  i.  4. 

Then,  exceeding  great  and  precious  are  Thy  promises 

Divine ; 
Given  by  Christ,  and  by  the  Spirit  sealed  with  sweetest 

'  All  are  thine ! ' 
Precious   in   their   peace  and   power,  in  their  sure  and 

changeless  might, 
Strengthening,  comforting,  transforming ;  suns  by  day  and 

stars  by  night. 

VII. 

'  To  them  that  have  obtained  like  precious  faith  with  us  through  the 
righteousness  of  God,  and  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.'— 2  Pet.  i.  i. 

Precious  faith  our  God  hath  given  ;  rich  in  faith  is  rich 

indeed ! 
Fire-tried  gold  from  His  own  treasury,  fully  meeting  every 

need : 


PRECIOUS  THINGS.  Su 


Channel  of  His  grace  abounding;  bringing  peace  and  joy 

and  light ; 
Purifying,  overcoming  ;  linking  weakness  with  His  might. 

VIII. 

'  The  precious  ointment  upon  the  head,  that  ran  down  upon  the  beard, 
even  Aaron's  beard  ;  that  went  down  to  the  slcirts  of  his  garments.' — Ps. 
cxxxiii.  2. 

Precious  ointment,  very  costly,  of  chief  odours  pure  and 

sweet. 
Holy  gift  for  royal  priesthood,  thus  for  temple-service  meet; 
Such  the  Spirit's  precious  unction,  oil  of  gladness  freely  shed, 
Sanctifying  and  abiding  on  the  consecrated  head. 

IX. 

'  How  excellent  {marg.  precious)  is  Thy  loving  kindness,  O  God  1 
therefore  the  children  of  men  put  their  trust  under  the  shadow  of  Thy 
wings.' — Ps.  xxxvi.  7  ;   IsA,  liv.  8,  10, 

Who  shall  paint  the  flash  of  splendour  from  the  opened 

casket  bright, 
When    His    precious   loving-kindness    beams   upon   the 

quickened  sight ! 
Priceless  jewel  ever  gleaming  with  imperishable  ray, 
God  will  never  take  it  from  us,  though  the  mountains  pass 

away. 

X. 

'  It  cannot  be  valued  with  the  gold  of  Ophir,  with  the  precious  onyx,  or 
tlie  sapphire.  No  mention  shall  be  made  of  coral  or  of  pearls  :  for  the 
price  of  wisdom  is  above  rubies.' — Job  xxviii.  16,  18. 

Far  more  precious  than  the  ruby,  or  the  crystal's  rainbow 

light. 
Valued  not  with  precious  onyx  or  with  pearl  and  sapphire 

bright, 


8 12  *  UNDER  HIS  shadow: 


Freely  given  to  all  who  ask  it,  is  the  wisdom  from  above, 
Pure  and  peaceable  and  gentle,  full  of  fruits  of  life  and 
love. 

XI. 

'  Blessed  of  the  Lord  be  his  land  for  the  precious  things  of  heaven,  for 
the  dew,  and  for  the  deep  that  coucheth  beneath,  and  for  the  precious 
fruits  brought  forth  by  the  sun,  and  for  the  precious  things  put  forth  by 
the  moon,  and  for  the  chief  things  of  the  ancient  mountains,  and  for  the 
precious  things  of  the  lasting  hills,  and  for  the  precious  things  of  the  earth.' 
— Deut.  xxxiii.  13-16. 

Nor  withhold  we  glad  thanksgiving  for  His  mercies  ever  new, 

Precious  things  of  earth  and  heaven,  sun  and  rain  and 
quickening  dew ; 

Precious  fruits  and  varied  crowning  of  the  year  His  good- 
ness fills, 

Chief  things  of  the  ancient  mountains,  precious  things  of 
lasting  hills. 

XII. 

•  If  thou  take  forth  the  precious  from  the  vile,  thou  shalt  be  as  My 
mouth.' — Jer.  XV.  19. 

Such  His  gifts  !  but  mark  we  duly  our  responsibility 

Unto  Him  whose  name  is  Holy,  infinite  in  purity ; 

Sin  and  self  no  longer  serving,  take  the  precious  from  the 
vile. 

So  His  power  shall  rest  upon  thee,  thou  shalt  dwell  be- 
neath His  smile. 

XIII. 

•The  precious  sons  of  Zion,  comparable  to  fine  gold.' — Lam.  iv;  2. 

Sons  of  Zion,  ye  are  precious  in  your  heavenly  Father's 

sight. 
Ye  are  His  peculiar  treasure,  ye  His  jewels  of  delight; 


PRECIOUS  THINGS.  813 

Sought  and   chosen,    cleansed   and  polished,  purchased 

with  transcendent  cost, 
Kept  in  His  own  royal  casket,  never,  never  to  be  lost. 

XIV. 

•  That  the  trial  of  your  faith,  being  much  more  precious  than  of  gold 
that  perisheth,  though  it  be  tried  with  fire,  might  be  found  unto  praise  and 
honour  and  glory  at  the  appearing  of  Jesus  Christ.' — i  Pet.  i.  7. 

Precious,  more  than  gold  that  wasteth,  is  the  trial  of  your 

faith. 
Fires  of  anguish  or  temptation  cannot  dim  it,  cannot  scathe ! 
Your  Refiner  sitteth  watching  till  His  image  shineth  clear, 
For  His  glory,  praise,  and  honour,  when  the  Saviour  shall 

appear. 

XV. 

'  Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  His  saints.'— Ps.  cxvi.  15. 

Precious,  precious  to  Jehovah  is  His  children's  holy  sleep  ; 
He  is  with  them  in  the  passing  through  the  waters  cold 

and  deep ; 
Everlasting  love  enfolds  them  softly,  safely  to  His  breast, 
Everlasting  love  receives  them  to  His  glory  and  His  rest. 

XVI. 

•  He  showed  me  that  great  city,  the  holy  Jerusalem,  descending  out  of 
heaven  from  God,  having  the  glory  of  God  :  and  her  light  was  like  unto 
a  stone  most  precious  ;  even  like  a  jasper  stone,  clear  as  crystal.'— Rev. 
xxi.  10,  II. 

Pause  not  here, — the  Holy  City,  glorious  in  God's  light, 

behold  ! 
Like  unto  a  stone  most  precious,  clear  as  crystal,  pure  as 

gold; 


Si4  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW.' 

Strong     foundations,    fair   with    sapphires,   sardius    and 

chrysolite. 
Blent  with  amethyst  and  jacinth,  emerald  and  topaz  bright. 


XVII. 

'  A  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God.'— 
Heb.  xi.  10. 

Glorious  dwelling  of  the  holy,  where  no  grief  or  gloom  of 
sin 

Through  the  pure  and  pearly  portals  evermore  shall  enter 
in  : 

Christ  its  Light  and  God  its  Temple,  Christ  its  song  of 

endless  laud  ! 
Oh  what  precious  consummation  of  the  precious  things  of 

God  I 


*Bfterwar&s/ 

(From  F.  R.  H.  to  K.  T.) 

'  There  is  no  "  afterward  "  on  earth  for  me  !' 

Beloved,  't  is  not  so  ! 
That  God's  own  '  afterwards '  are  pledged  to  thee, 
Thy  life  shall  show. 


No  '  afterward  '  indeed  of  great  things  wrought 

By  willing  hands  and  feet ; 
No  sheaf  is  thine,  from  wider  harvests  brought. 

With  singing  sweet. 


'  AFTER  wards:  8iS 


Fair  flowing  years  of  ease  and  laughing  strength, 

With  cloudless  morning  skies, 
Sweet  life  renewed,  and  active  work  at  length, 

His  love  denies. 

But  living  fruit  of  righteousness  to  Him 

His  chastening  shall  yield, 
And  constant  '  afterwards,'  no  longer  dim, 

Shall  be  revealed. 

Is  it  no  '  afterward '  that  in  thy  heart 

His  love  is  shed  abroad  ? 
And  that  His  Spirit  breathes,  while  called  apart, 

The  peace  of  God  ? 

Thaty^j'  in  tribulation  shall  spring  forth 

To  greet  His  visits  blessed, 
Whose  wisdom  wakes  the  south  wind  or  the  north, 

As  He  sees  best ! 


Shall  not  longsuffering  in  thee  be  wrought, 
To  mirror  back  His  own  ? 

His  gentleness  shall  mellow  every  thought, 
And  look,  and  tone. 


And  goodness  1     In  thyself  dwells  no  good  thing, 

Yet  from  thy  glorious  Root 
An  '  afterward '  of  holiness  shall  spring — 

Most  precious  fruit ! 


8i6  •  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


The  trial  of  ihy  faith  from  hour  to  hour 
Shall  yield  a  grand  increase ; 

He  shall  fulfil  the  work  of  faith  with  power 
That  cannot  cease. 

And  all  around  shall  praise  Him  as  they  see 

The  meekness  of  thy  Lord. 
Thus,  even  here  and  now,  how  blest  shall  be 

Thy  sure  reward  ! 

This'  pleasant  fruit  it  shall  be  thine  to  lay 

At  thy  Beloved's  feet. 
The  ripening  clusters  growing  day  by  day 

More  full  and  sweet 

If  at  His  gate  He  keeps  thee  waiting  now 
Through  many  a  suffering  year. 

Watch  for  His  daily  '  afterwards,'  and  thou 
Shalt  find  them  here : 

Till,  as  refined  gold,  in  thee  shall  shine 

His  image,  no  more  dim ; 
Then  shall  the  endless  '  afterward '  be  thine 

Of  rest  with  Him. 


*  U)C6sels  of  /iDcrc^,  iprepareD  unto  GlorgJ 

Rom.  ix.  23. 

Vessels  of  mercy,  prepared  unto  glory ! 

This  is  your  calling  and  this  is  your  joy  ! 
This,  for  the  new  year  unfolding  before  ye, 

Tells  out  the  terms  of  your  blessed  employ. 


'VESSELS  OF  MERCY,  PREPARED  UNTO  GLORY.'    817 


Vessels,  it  may  be,  all  empty  and  broken, 
Marred  in  the  Hand  of  inscrutable  skill ; 

(Love  can  accept  the  mysterious  token  !) 

Marred  but  to  make  them  more  beautiful  still. 

Jer,  xviii.  iv. 

Vessels,  it  may  be,  not  costly  or  golden  ; 

Vessels,  it  may  be,  of  quantity  small. 
Yet  by  the  Nail  in  the  Sure  Place  upholden. 

Never  to  shiver  and  never  to  fall. 

ISA.  xxii.  23,  24. 

Vessels  to  honour,  made  sacred  and  holy, 
Meet  for  the  use  of  the  Master  we  love, 

Ready  for  service  all  simple  and  lowly. 
Ready,  one  day,  for  the  temple  above. 

2  Tim.  ii.  21. 

Yes,  though  the  vessels  be  fragile  and  earthen, 
God  hath  commanded  His  glory  to  shine ; 

Treasure  resplendent  henceforth  is  our  burthen. 
Excellent  power,  not  ours  but  Divine. 

2  Cor.  iv.  5,  6. 

Chosen  in  Christ  ere  the  dawn  of  Creation, 
Chosen  for  Him,  to  be  filled  with  His  grace, 

Chosen  to  carry  the  streams  of  salvation 
Into  each  thirsty  and  desolate  place. 

Acts  i.x.  15. 

Take  all  Thy  vessels,  O  glorious  Finer, 

Purge  all  the  dross,  that  each  chalice  may  be 

Pure  in  Thy  pattern,  completer,  diviner, 
Filled  with  Thy  glory  and  shining  for  Thee. 

fROV,  XXV.  4. 

3  F 


SiS  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW.'^ 


Seulcment  pcmr  Zo\, 

[Written  for  and  sung  by  some  Swiss  peasants  at  a  Sunday  afternoon 
Bible  reading,  July  23rd,  1876.] 

Que  je  sois,  O  cher  Sauveur, 

Seulement  k  Toi  • 
Soit  r'amour  de  tout  mon  cosur 

Seulement  pour  ToL 
Je  reviens  a  mon  Pere 

Seulement  pai*Toi, 
Ma  confiance  entiere 

Sera  en  Toi, 

Seulement  en  Toi. 


Le  pechfe  Tu  as  port^ 

Seul,  seul  pour  moi ; 
Et  Ton  sang  Tu  as  vers^ 

Seul,  seul  pour  moi. 
Toute  gloire,  toute  joie 

Sera  pour  Toi ; 
L'esperance  et  la  foi 

Seront  en  Toi, 
Seulement  en  Toi. 

Aujourd'hui,  O  cher  Seigneur,  I 

Acceptes-moi !  1 

Tu  es  seul  mon  grand  Sauveur, 
Tu  es  mon  E.0L 


\ 


A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT.  819 

Tous  mes  moments,  tous  mes  jours 

Seront  pour  Toi ! 
J^sus,  gardes-moi  toujours 

Seulement  pour  Toi, 
Seulement  pour  Toi. 


Que  je  chante  et  que  je  pleure 

Seulement  pour  Toi ! 
Que  je  vive  et  que  je  meure 

Seulement  pour  Toi ! 
Jesus,  que  m'as  tant  ainid 

Mourant  pour  moi, 
Toute  mon  dternite 

Sera  pour  Toi, 

Seulement  pour  Toi. 


[Written  in  severe  pain,  Sunday  afternoon,  October  8th,   1876,  at  the 
Pension  Wengen,  Alps.] 

I  TAKE  this  pain.  Lord  Jesus, 

From  Thine  own  hand. 
The  strength  to  bear  it  bravely 

Thou  wilt  command. 


I  am  too  weak  for  effort. 

So  let  me  rest. 
In  hush  of  sweet  submission, 

On  Thine  own  breast. 


820  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus, 

As  proof  indeed 
That  Thou  art  watching  closely 

My  truest  need  : 

That  Thou,  my  Good  Physician, 

Art  watching  still ; 
That  all  Thine  own  good  pleasure 

Thou  wilt  fulfil. 

I  take  this  pain.  Lord  Jesus, 
What  Thou  dost  choose 

The  soul  that  really  loves  Thea 
Will  not  refuse. 

It  is  not  for  the  first  time 

I  trust  to-day ; 
For  Thee  my  heart  has  never 

A  trustless  '  Nay ! ' 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus, 

But  what  beside  ? 
'T  is  no  unmingled  portion 

Thou  dost  provide. 

In  every  hour  of  faintness, 

My  cup  runs  o'er 
With  faithfulness  and  mercv, 

And  love's  sweet  store. 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus, 
As  Thine  own  gift, 


THE   VOICE  OF  MANY  WA  TERS.  821 

And  true  though  tremulous  praises 
I  now  uplift. 

I  am  too  weak  to  sing  them, 

But  Thou  dost  hear 
The  whisper  from  the  pillow, — 

Thou  art  so  near ! 

'T  is  Thy  dear  hand,  O  Saviour, 

That  presseth  sore, 
The  hand  that  bears  the  nail-prints 

For  evermore. 

And  now  beneath  its  shadow, 

Hidden  by  Thee, 
The  pressure  only  tells  me 

Thou  lovest  me ! 


XTbe  Dolce  of  /iDan^  Maters. 

Far  away  I  heard  it, 

Stealing  through  the  pines, 

Like  a  whisper  saintly. 

Falling  dimly,  faintly, 

Through  the  terraced  vines. 

Freshening  breezes  bore  it 

Down  the  mountain  slope; 
So  I  turned  and  listened, 
While  the  sunlight  glistened 
On  the  snowy  cope. 


g32  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW.' 


Far  away  and  dreamy 

Was  the  Voice  I  heard ; 
Yet  it  pierced  and  found  me, 
Through  the  voices  round  me — 

Song  without  a  word. 

All  the  life  and  turmoil, 

All  the  busy  cheer  1 

Melted  in  the  flowing 
Of  that  murmur,  growing,  ^ 

Claiming  all  my  ear. 

What  the  mountain-message, 

I  could  never  tell'^ 
Such  Eolian  fluting 
Hath  no  language  suiting 

What  we  write  and  spell. 

Rather  did  it  enter 

W^here  no  words  can  win, 
Touching  and  unsealing 
Springs  of  hidden  feehng, 

Slumbering  deep  within. 

Voice  of  many  waters 

Only  heard  afar ! 
Hushing,  luring  slowly, 
With  an  influence  holy, 

Lite  the  Orient  Star. 


THE   VOICE  OF  MANY  WATERS.  823 

Follow  where  it  leadeth, 

Till  we  stand  below, 
While  the  noble  thunder 
Wins  the  hush  of  wonder, 

Silent  in  its  glow. 

Light  and  sound  triumphant 

Fill  the  eye  and  ear ; 
Every  pulse  is  beating 
Quick  unconscious  greeting 

To  the  vision  near. 


Rainbow-flames  are  wreathing 

In  the  dazzling  foam, 
Fancy  far  transcending, 
Power  and  beauty  blending 
In  their  radiant  home. 


All  the  dreamy  longing 

Passes  out  of  sight, 
In  a  swift  surrender 
To  the  joyous  splendour 
Of  this  song  of  might. 

Self  is  lost  and  hidden 

As  it  peals  along ; 
Fevered  introspection, 
Paler-browed  reflection 
Vanish  in  the  song. 


R24  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


For  the  spirit,  lifted 

From  the  dulling  mists, 
Takes  a  stronger  moulding 
As  the  sound  enfolding, 
Bears  it  where  it  lists. 


Voice  of  many  waters ! 

Must  we  turn  away 
From  the  crystal  chorus 
Now  resounding  o'er  us 

Through  the  flashing  spray ! 

Far  away  we  hear  it, 
Floating  from  the  sky  j 

Mystic  echo,  falling 

Through  the  stars,  and  calling 
From  the  thrones  on  high, 

There  are  voices  round  us, 

Busy,  quick,  and  loud ; 
All  day  long  we  hear  them, 
We  are  still  so  near  them, 
Still  among  the  crowd. 


Yet  athwart  the  clamour 

Falls  it,  faint  and  sweet, 
Like  the  softest  harp-tone. 
Passing  every  sharp  tone 
Down  the  noisy  street. 


THE  VOICE  OF  MANY  WATERS.  825 


To  the  soul-recesses 

Cleaving  then  its  way, 
Waking  hidden  yearning. 
Unwilled  impulse  turning 
To  the  Far  Away. 

Far  away — and  viewless, 
Yet  not  all  unknown— 
In  the  murmur  tracing 
Soft  notes  interlacing 
With  familiar  tone. 

So  we  start  and  listen ! 

While  the  murmur  low 
Falleth  ever  clearer, 
Swelleth  fuller,  nearer 

In  melodious  flow. 

Voice  of  many  waters 

From  the  height  above 
Hushing,  luring  slowly 
With  its  influence  holy, 
With  its  song  of  love ! 


Following  where  it  leadeth, 
Pilgrim  feet  shall  stand, 
Where  the  holy  millions 
Throng  the  fair  pavilions 
In  the  Glorious  Land. 


826  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


Where  the  sevenfold  '  Worthy ! ' 

Hails  the  King  of  kings, 
Blent  with  golden  clashing 
Of  the  crowns,  and  flashing 
Of  cherubic  wings ; 


Rolls  the  Amen  Chorus, 

Old,  yet  ever  new ; 
Seal  of  blest  allegiance, 
Pledge  of  bright  obediencej 
Seal  that  God  is  true. 


Through  the  solemn  glory 

Alleluias  rise, 
Mightiest  exultation, 
Holiest  adoration, 

Infinite  surprise. 


There  immortal  powers 
Meet  immortal  song. 
Heavenly  image  bearing, 
Angel-essence  sharing, 
Excellent  and  strong. 


Strong  to  bear  the  glory 
And  the  veil-less  sight, 
Strong  to  swell  the  thunders 
And  to  know  the  wonders 
Of  the  home  of  light. 


THE  KE  Y  FO  UND.  827 


Voice  of  many  waters ! 

Everlasting  laud  ! 
Hark  !  it  rushes  nearer, 
Every  moment  clearer, 

From  the  Throne  of  God  I 


There  is  a  strange  wild  wail  around,  a  wail  of  wild  unrest, 

A  moaning  in  the  music,  with  echoes  unconfessed, 

And  a  mocking  twitter  here  and  there,  with  small  notes 

shrill  and  thin, 
And  deep,  low,  shuddering  groans  that  rise  from  caves  of 

gloom  within. 

And  still  the  weird  wail  crosses  the  harmonies  of  God, 

And  still  the  wailers  wander  through  His  fair  lands,  rich 
and  broad ; 

Grave  thought-explorers  swell  the  cry  of  doubt  and  name- 
less pain, 

And  careless  feet,  among  the  flowers,  trip  to  the  dismal 
strain. 

They  may  wander  as  they  will  in  the  hopeless  search  for 

truth, 
They  may  squander  in  the  quest  all  the  freshness  of  their 

youth, 
They  may  wrestle  with  the  nightmares  of  sin's  unresting 

sleep, 
They  may  cast  a  futile  plummet  in  the  heart's  unfathomed 

(ieep; 


828  '  UNDER  HIS  SHADOW: 


But  they  wait  and  wail  and  wander  in  vain  and  still  in 

vain, 
Though  they  glory  in  the  dimness  and  are  proud  of  very 

pain; 
For  a  life  of  Titan  struggle  is  but  one  sublime  mistake, 
While  the  spell-dream  is  upon  them,  and  they  cannot,  will 

not  wake. 

Awake,  O  thou  that  sleepest  !     The  Deliverer  is  near  ! 
Arise,  go  forth  to  meet  Him  !      Bow  down,  for   He   is 

here  ! 
Ye  shall  count  your  true  existence  from  this  first,  blessed 

tryst. 
For  He  waiteth  to  reveal  Himself,  the  Very  God  in  Christ. 

For  the  soul  is  never  satisfied,  the  life  is  incomplete, 
And  the  symphonies  of  sorrow  find  no  cadence  calm  and 

sweet, 
And  the  earth-lights  never  lead  us  beyond  the  shadows 

grim. 
And  the  lone  heart  never  resteth  till  it  findeth  rest  in  Him. 

Do  ye  doubt  our  feeble  witness?     Though  ye  scorn  us, 

come  and  see ! 
Come  and  hear  Him  for  yourselves,  and  ye  shall  know 

that  it  is  He  ! 
Ye  shall  find  in  Him  the  Centre,  the  Very  Truth  and  Life, 
Resplendent  resolution  of  the  endless  doubt  and  strife. 

Ye  shall  find  a  perfect  fitness  with  your  highest,  deepest 

thought. 
In  Him,  the  fair  Ideal,  that  so  long  ye  vainly  sought, 


I 


THE  KEY  FOUND.  829 


In  Him  the  grand  Reality  ye  never  found  before, 
In  Him  the  Lord  that  ye  must   love,  the  God   ye  must 
adore. 

Ye  shall  find  in  Him  the  filling  of  the  '  aching  void '  within  ; 

In  Him  the  instant  antidote  for  anguish  and  for  sin ; 

In  Him  the  conscious  meeting  of  the  soul's  unuttered 

need; 
In  Him  the  All  that  ye  have  sought,   the  goal  of  life 

indeed. 

As  the  light  is  to  the  eye,  with  its  sensitive  array 
Of  delicate  adjustments  with  their  finely  balanced  play, 
With  its  instinct  of  perception,  and  its  craving  for  the  light, 
So  is  Jesus  to  the  spirit,  when  He  gives  the  inward  sight. 

As  the  full  and  clear  translation  of  some  characters  of  fate, 
With  their  sibylline  enfoldings,  of  dim  mysterious  weight, 
And  a  haunting  terror  lest  the  real  be  darker  than  the 

guessed ! 
So  is  Jesus  to  the  questions  and  enigmas  of  the  breast. 

As  the  key  is  to  the  lock,  when  it  enters  quick  and  true, 
Fitting  all  the  complex  wards  that  are  hidden  from  the 

view. 
Moving  all  the  secret  springs  that  no  other  finds  or  moves, 
So  is  Jesus  to  the  soul,  when  His  saving  power  He  proves. 

As  the  music  to  the  ear,  when  the  mightiest  anthems  roll, 
With  its  corridors  conveying  every  echo  to  the  soul. 
With  its  exquisite  discernment  of  vibration  and  of  tone, — 
So  is  Jesus  to  the  heart  that  is  made  for  Him  alone. 


830  '  UNDER  HIS  shadow: 

No  need  to  prove  the  sunshine  when  the  eye  receives  the 

light ! 
When  the  cipher  is  deciphered,  we  know  the  clue  is  right ; 
The  key  is  known  by  fitting  the  strange  intricate  \vards ; 
And  the  ears  must  own  the  music  when  they  recognise 

the  chords. 

No  need  to  prove  a  Saviour,  when  once  the  heart  believes, 
And  the  light  of  God's  own  glory  in  Jesus  Christ  receives  ! 
No  need  for  weary  puzzle,  with  heart-lore  strange  and  dim, 
When  we  find  our  dark  enigmas  are  simply  solved  in  Him  ! 

We  cannot  doubt  our  finding  the  very  Key  indeed, 
When  Jesus  fills  up  every  void,  responds  to  every  need. 
When  all  the  secrets  of  our  hearts  before  Him  are  revealed, 
And  all  the  mystery  of  life,  alone  with  Him,  unsealed. 

We  cannot  doubt,  when  once  the  ear  of  listening  faith  has 

heard. 
With  all-responsive  thrill  of  love,  the  music  of  His  word  J 
He  gives  the  witness  that  excels  all  argument  or  sign, — 
When  we  have  heard  it  for  ourselves  we  know  it  is  Divine ! 

And  then,  oh,  then  the  wail  is  stilled,  the  wandering  is 

o'er, 
The  rest  is  gained,  the  certainty  that  never  wavers  more ; 
And  then  the  full,  unquivering  praise  arises  glad  and  strong, 
And  life  becomes  the  prelude  of  the  everlasting  song  1 
(her  last  birthday.) 


Closing  Chords. 


>3l 


1 


I 


WHAT  THOU  WILT.  833 


Mbat  Ubou  Mllt 

Do  what  Thou  wilt !     Yes,  only  do 

What  seemeth  good  to  Thee  : 
Thou  art  so  loving,  wise,  and  true, 

It  must  be  best  for  me. 

Send  what  Thou  wilt ;  or  beating  shower, 

Soft  dew,  or  brilliant  sun  ; 
Alike  in  still  or  stormy  hour, 

My  Lord,  Thy  will  be  done. 

Teach  what  Thou  wilt ;  and  make  me  learn 

Each  lesson  full  and  sweet. 
And  deeper  things  of  God  discern 

While  sitting  at  Thy  feet. 

Say  what  Thou  wilt ;  and  let  each  word 

My  quick  obedience  win  ; 
Let  loyalty  and  love  be  stirred 

To  deeper  glow  within. 

Give  what  Thou  wilt ;  for  then  I  knov/ 

I  shall  be  rich  indeed  ; 
My  King  rejoices  to  bestow 

Supply  for  every  need. 
3  G 


834 


CLOSING  CIIOKDS. 


Take  what  Thou  wilt,  belovbd  Lord, 

For  I  have  all  in  Thee  ! 
My  own  exceeding  great  reward, 

Thou,  Thou  Thyself  shalt  be  1 


What  though  the  blossom  fall  and  die? 

The  flower  is  not  the  root ; 
The  sun  of  love  may  ripen  yet 

The  Master's  pleasant  fruit. 

What  though  by  many  a  sinful  fall 

Thy  garments  are  defiled  ? 
A  Saviour's  blood  can  cleanse  them  all ; 

Fear  not !  thou  art  His  child. 

Arise !  and,  leaning  on  His  strength, 
Thy  weakness  shall  be  strong ; 

And  He  will  teach  Thy  heart  at  length 
A  new  perpetual  song. 

Arise  !  to  follow  in  His  track 

Each  holy  footprint  clear, 
And  on  an  upward  course  look  back 

With  every  brightening  year. 

Arise  !  and  on  thy  future  way 

His  blessing  with  thee  be  ! 
His  presence  be  thy  staff  and  stay, 

Till  Thou  His  glory  see. 


FEAR  NOT.  835 


jfear  IRot. 

Isaiah  xliii.  1-7. 

Listen  !  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken  ! 

'  Fear  thou  not,'  saith  He ; 
*  When  thou  passest  through  the  waters, 

I  will  be  with  thee. 


*  Fear  not !  for  I  have  redeemed  thee ; 

All  My  sheep  I  know ! 
When  thou  passest  through  the  rivers, 

They  shall  not  o'erflow. 


*  Fear  not !  by  thy  name  I  called  thee,- 
Mine  thy  heart  hath  learned ; 

When  thou  walkest  through  the  fire, 
Thou  shalt  not  be  burned. 


Thou  art  Mine  !  oh,  therefore  fear  not  1 
Mine  for  ever  now  ! 
And  the  flame  shall  never  kindle 
On  thy  sealed  brow. 


^  Thou  art  precious,  therefore  fear  not, 

Precious  unto  Me  1 
I  have  made  thee  for  My  glory, 

1  have  lov^d  thee.* 


836  CLOSING  CHORDS. 


ZTbe  Scripture  Cannot  be  Brofteu* 

John  x.  35. 

Upon  the  Word  I  rest, 

Each  pilgrim  day ; 
This  golden  staff  is  best 

For  all  the  way. 
What  Jesus  Christ  hath  spokea, 

Can«(?/  be  broken  ! 


Upon  the  Word  I  rest, 

So  strong,  so  sure, 
So  full  of  comfort  blest, 

So  sweet,  so  pure  ! 
The  charter  of  salvation, 

Faith's  broad  foundation. 


Upon  the  Word  I  stand  ! 

That  cannot  die ! 
Christ  seals  it  in  my  hand, 

He  cannot  lie  ! 
The  word  that  faileth  never ! 

Abiding  ever  ! 

Chorus.  The  Master  hath  said  it !     Rejoicing  in  this, 
We  ask  not  for  sign  or  for  token ; 
His  word  is  enough  for  our  confident  bliss,— 
•  The  Scripture  cannot  be  broken  ! ' 


BEHOLD   YOUR  KING.  837 


*1l3e  Suftere^.' 

*  He  suffered  ! '    Was  it,  Lord,  indeed  for  me. 

The  Just  One  for  the  unjust,  Thou  didst  bear 
The  weight  of  sorrow  that  I  hardly  dare 
To  look  upon,  in  dark  Gethsemane? 

*  He  suffered ! '     Thou,  my  near  and  gracious  Friend, 

And  yet  my  Lord,  my  God  !     Thou  didst  not  shrink 
For  me  that  full  and  fearful  cup  to  drink, 
Because  Thou  lovedst  even  to  the  end  ! 

*  He  suffered ! '     Saviour,  was  Thy  love  so  vast 

That  mysteries  of  unknown  agony. 
Even  unto  death,  its  only  gauge  could  be, 
Unmeasured  as  the  fiery  depths  it  passed? 
Lord,  by  the  sorrows  of  Gethsemane, 
Seal  Thou  my  quivering  love  for  ever  unto  Thee  1 


•  Behold,  and  see  if  there  be  any  sorrow  like  unto  My  sorrow.' — Lam.  i.  la 

Behold  your  King !     Though  the  moonlight  steals 

Through  the  silvery  sprays  of  the  olive  tree, 
No  star-gemmed  sceptre  or  crown  it  reveals, 
In  the  solemn  shade  of  Gtehsemane. 
Only  a  form  of  prostrate  grief. 
Fallen,  crushed,  like  a  broken  leaf! 
Oh,  think  of  His  sorrow  !  that  we  may  know 
The  depth  of  love  in  the  depth  of  woe. 


S;S  CLOS/XG  CHORDS. 

Behold  your  King !     Is  it  nothing  to  you, 

That  the  crimson  tokens  of  agony 
From  the  kingly  brow  must  fall  like  dew, 

Through  the  shuddering  shades  of  Gethsemane  ? 
Jesus  Himself  the  Prince  of  Life, 
Bows  in  mysterious  mortal  strife  ; 
Oh,  think  of  His  sorrow  !  that  we  may  know 
The  unknown  love  in  the  unknown  woe. 

Behold  your  King,  with  His  sorrow  crowned. 

Alone,  alone  in  the  valley  is  He  ! 
The  shadows  of  death  are  gathering  round, 
And  the  Cross  must  follow  Gethsemane. 
Darker  and  darker  the  gloom  must  fall, 
FUled  is  the  Cup,  He  must  drink  it  all ! 
Oh,  think  of  His  sorrow  !  that  we  may  know 
His  wondrous  love  in  His  wondrous  woe. 

NOTS. — .\f:er  F.  R-  H-'s  MS.  copy  of  '  Adorstioa,'  written  Dec.  31, 1866, 
she  adds  : — '  I  find  ^h^=i  is  exactly  my  hundredth  poem,  beginning  from 
mv  No.  2  iis,  book,  and  not  reckoning  juvenile  pieces  before  I  left  school. 
I  am  not  sorry  that  "  Adoration  "  happens  to  close  the  round  number  as 
wdl  as  the  year  iS56.  I  should  like  the  same  subject,  only  better  treated, 
to  cicse  my  verse-writing  for  lift.  One  would  wish  one's  last  poem  to  be 
some  expression  of  praise  to  the  Crucified  One.' 

It  is  a  remarkable  coincidence  that  '  Behold  your  King,"  and  '  He 
Suffere-d,"  are  the  closing  poems  in  F.  R,  H.'s  book,  written  in  pencil, 

1579. 


AN  EASTER  PR  A  YER.  839 


an  barter  jprayec. 

Oh  let  me  know 
The  power  of  Thy  resurrection  ; 

Oh  let  me  show 
Thy  risen  life  in  calm  and  clear  reflection ; 

Oh  let  me  soar 
"VSTiere  Thou,  my  Sa\-iour  Christ,  art  gone  before ; 

In  mind  and  heart 
Let  me  dwell  always,  only,  where  Thou  art. 


Oh  let  me  gi%-e 
Out  of  the  gifts  Thou  freely  givest ; 

Oh  let  me  live 
With  life  abundantly  because  Thou  livest ; 

Oh  make  me  shine 
In  darkest  places,  for  Thy  light  is  mine ; 

Oh  let  me  be 
A  faithful  witness  for  Thy  truth  and  Thea:. 


Oh  let  me  show 
The  strong  reality  of  gospel  story  ; 

Oh  let  me  go 
From  strength  to  strength,  from  glory  unto  glor}- ; 

Oh  let  me  sing 
For  ver)'  joy,  because  Thou  art  my  King  ; 

Oh  let  me  praise 
Thy  love  and  faithfulness  through  all  my  days. 


840  CLOSING  CHORDS. 


Baster  2^awn» 

It  is  too  calm  to  be  a  dream, 
Too  gravely  sweet,  too  full  of  power, 
Prayer  changed  to  praise  this  very  hour  ! 

Yes,  heard  and  answered  !  though  it  seem 
Beyond  the  hope  of  yesterday, 
Beyond  the  faith  that  dared  to  pray. 

Yet  not  beyond  the  love  that  heard,  ■ 

And  not  beyond  the  faithful  word 
On  which  each  trembling  prayer  may  rest, 
And  win  the  answer  truly  best. 

Yes,  heard  and  answered  !  sought  and  found  ! 
I  breathe  a  golden  atmosphere 
Of  solemn  joy,  and  seem  to  hear 

Within,  above,  and  all  around,  J 

The  chime  of  deep  cathedral  bells, 
An  early  herald  peal  that  tells 
A  glorious  Easter  tide  begun  ; 
While  yet  are  sparkling  in  the  sun 
Large  raindrops  of  the  night  storm  passed, 
And  days  of  Lent  are  gone  at  last. 
V/ritten  in  pencil  the  early  dawn  of  her  last  Easter  Day,  April  1879. 


TUntinisbeb  jfracjinents. 

The  Master  will  guide  the  weary  feet, 
Choosing  for  each,  and  choosing  aright 

The  noontide  rest  in  the  summer  heat : 
For  some  the  giory  of  Alpine  height, 


UNFINISHED  FRAGMENTS.  841 

For  some  the  breezes  fresh  and  free 
And  the  changeful  charm  of  wave  and  sea  \ 
For  some  the  hush  and  the  soothing  spells 
Of  harvest  fields  and  woodland  dells  ; 
For  some  it  may  be  the  quiet  gloom 
Of  the  suffering  couch  in  shaded  room. 
Master,  our  Master,  oh  let  it  be 
That  our  leisure  and  rest  be  still  with  Thee, 
With  Thee  and^^r  Thee  each  sunny  hour 

In  pencil,  May  1879. 


*  Arise,  depart !  for  this  is  not  your  rest ! ' 

The  Voice  fell  strangely  on  the  sleeping  fold, 

As  fell  the  starlight's  quivering  gold 
Upon  the  dusky  lake's  untroubled  breast, 
And  yet  the  Shepherd's  hand  had  led  them  there. 
And  made  them  to  lie  down  amid  the  pastures  fair, 

*  Arise  ye,  and  depart ! '     The  morning  rays 

Lit  up  the  emerald  slope  and  crystal  pool, 
Sweet  sustenance  for  many  days, 

And  quiet  resting  places,  calm  and  cool. 
They  knew  not  why,  nor  whither,  yet  they  went ! 
His  own  hand  put  them  forth,  and  so  they  were  content 

And  so  they  followed  Him,  they  could  not  stay 
When  He  had  risen,  the  Shepherd  good  and  fair 

•  •••  ••••• 

In  pencil,  May  1879, 


S42  CLOSING  CHORDS. 


/iDost  JSIesseb  for  Bver.^ 

Ps.  xxi.  6. 

The  prayer  of  many  a  day  is  all  fulfilled, 
Only  by  full  fruition  stayed  and  stilled ; 

You  asked  for  blessing  as  your  Father  willed, 

Now  He  hath  answered  :  '  Most  blessed  for  ever ! ' 

Lost  is  the  daily  light  of  mutual  smile, 
You  therefore  sorrow  now  a  little  while  ; 

But  floating  down  life's  dimmed  and  lonely  aisle 
Comes  the  clear  music  :  '  Most  blessed  for  ever  ! ' 

From  the  great  anthems  of  the  Crystal  Sea, 

Through  the  far  vistas  of  Eternity, 
Grand  echoes  of  the  word  peal  on  for  thee, 

Sweetest  and  fullest :  *  Most  blessed  for  ever !  * 

*  2lni5  tbeg  0ung  as  It  were  a  new  song  before  tbe 

tbrone/— Rev.  xiv.  3. 


^  Written  on  her  beloved  father's  death,  but  now  chosen  as  the  closing 
ihord  of  F.  R.  n.'s  songfs  on  eaiUi. 


I 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 


A  bright  and  blessed  Christmas  Day,  , 

A  bright  and  joyous  frame  of  mind,     . 

A  bright  New  Year,  and  a  sunny  track, 

A  few  months  ago, 

A  happy  Christmas  to  you  ! 

A  happy,  happy  Christmas, 

A  happy,  happy  Christmas, 

A  happy  New  Year  !     Oh  such  may  it  be  I 

A  holy,  happy  birthday, 

A  life  is  before  thee  which  cannot  decay, 

'A  merrie  Christmas'  to  you  !  . 

rt.  night  of  danger  on  the  sea,  . 

A  pearl-strewn  pathway  of  untold  gladness, 

A  shout  of  gladness  is  heard  afar, 

A  smile,  a  smile,  my  darling  ! 

A  still  grey  haze  around  us, 

A  term  for  autumn  leaves  when  all  their  lovely  tints  are  fled 

A  whimsical  set  we  must  often  seem,  . 

A  year  ago  the  gold  light, 

Accepted,  Perfect,  and  Complete, 

Advent  shadows  gather  deep. 

Ah  !  the  weary  cares  and  fears. 

Ah,  where  are  the  echoes  of  gladness, 

Amid  the  broken  waters  of  our  ever-restless  thought, 

^my,  this  thy  promise  be, 

An  April  burst  of  beauty. 

An  army  of  Cyclops,  fair  reader,  arc  we, 

And  if  it  seemeth  good  to  Thee,  my  Fatlier, 

And  I  have  wounded  Thee— oh,  wounded  Thee  ! 

843 


PAGH 

375 

270 

395 
211 

369 
374 
376 

389 
409 

739 
369 
651 
129 
196 
607 
126 

243 
24a 

340 

552 

743 

76 
223 

3 
609 

57 

239 

735 
684 


844 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 


Another  called,  another  brought,  dear  Master,  to  Thy  feet  ! 

Another  little  volume  filled  with  varied  verse  and  song, 

Another  year  for  Jesus  !  ,  .  .  . 

Another  year  is  dawning  !        .  ... 

Another  year  of  patient  toil,     .... 

Are  you  shining  for  Jesus,  dear  one  ?  . 

'  Arise,  depart !  for  this  is  not  your  rest ! '      . 

Arise,  for  He  has  risen  to-day, 

Arise,  vayjirst  I    In  peerless  radiance  beaming,         . 

As  the  sounding  shell  conveys, 

'  As  thy  day  thy  strength  shall  be  ! '    . 

Autobiography !    So  you  say. 

Awake,  ye  sleepers  !     . 

Begin  at  once  !     In  the  pleasant  days. 

Behold  your  King  1    Though  the  moonlight  steals,  , 

Be  not  far  from  me,  we  pray,  . 

Birthday  blessings,  fullest,  sweetest,    . 

Blessings  on  thee,  darling  boy, 

Bonnie  wee  Eric  i  I  have  sat  beside  the  evening  fire. 

Bright  be  thy  Christmas  tide  ! . 

Buds  and  bells  !     Sweet  April  pleasures, 

By  Him  '  Life's  Morning'  lovelit  be,  . 

'  Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee  1 '     Father,  I  have  found  it  true, 

Christ  hath  called  thee,  Christ  hath  blest, 

Christ  is  come  to  be  my  Friend, 

Christ  is  come  to  be  thy  light, 

Christmas  gifts  for  thee. 

Church  of  God,  beloved  and  chosen. 

He  died,     . 
Come  away,  come  away,  in  the  dawn  of  May, 
Come  down,  and  show  the  dwellers  far  below, 
Cometh  in  lowliness,     .... 
Crown  the  year  with  Thy  goodness.  Lord  I    . 
Darling  boy,      ..... 
Dear  Lord,  Thy  good  and  precious  Book  seems  written  all  for  me. 
Did  I  tell  you  how  we  went  to  tea, 
Did  you  hear  it  at  the  sunset  ? 
Distant  from  the  noisy  town,    . 
Distrust  thyself,  but  trust  His  grace, 
Do  the  angels  know  the  blessed  day, 
Do  what  Thou  wilt !     Yes,  only  do, 
Down  the  ages  hoary,  , 


Church  of  Clirist,  for  whom 


PAGH 

664 

395 
385 
392 
694 
841 

399 
267 

405 
90 
446 
266 
306 
837 
741 
407 
411 
130 

373 
274 
294 
559 
'403 
377 
378 
21^ 

588 

327 

422 

373 

391 
282 

656 
316 
620 
265 
719 
375 
833 
375 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES.  845 


Dying  ?  Evelyn,  darling  !..... 

Early  chastening,  early  blessing,  .  .  ^  . 

Enter  ray  first  with  a  studied  grace,    .... 

Ere  the  pathless  ocean  waters,  .... 

Eternity  with  Jesus,      .,...• 
Evening  now  is  closing,  .  .  .  •  • 

Every  little  flower  that  grows,  .... 

Far  away  I  heard  it,     . 

Far  from  home  alone  I  wander,  .  .  .  ■         . 

Far  off  upon  a  western  shore,  ,  .  .  . 

Far  on  the  mountain  height,    ..... 

Father,  we  would  plead  Thy  promise,  bending  at  Thy  glorious  throne 
Fear  not  the  westering  shadows,  .... 

Finished  at  last  !...-.• 
Five  minutes  all  I  have  to  spare,  .... 

Fog-wreaths  of  doubt  in  blinding  eddies  drifted, 

For  Denmark,  ho  !        . 

For  He  hath  given  us  a  changeless  writing,    . 

For  nine-and-twenty  years  the  rainbow-pinioned  Spring, 

For  the  weariest  day,    ...... 

Francie  and  Willie,  welcome  to  you  !  . 

Francie,  may  thy  childhood  be,  ...  . 

From  childish  days  I  never  heard,       .... 

'  From  glory  unto  glory  ! '     Be  this  our  joyous  song, 

'  From  glory  unto  glory  ! '     Thank  God  that  even  here. 

From  his  ruby  pavilion  Phoebus  arose, 

From  the  watch  of  lonely  mountain  prayer,  in  gathering  storm  and 

blast,  ....... 

'  From  this  day,'  ...... 

Give  me  a  song,  O  Lord,  ..... 

God  Almighty  1  King  of  nations  1  earth  Thy  footstool,  heaven  Thy 

throne,       ....... 

God  cloth  not  bid  thee  wait,     ..... 

God  of  heaven  I  hear  our  singing,        .... 

'  God's  everlasting  love  !     What  wouldst  thou  more  ? '  . 

God's  reiterated  '  all  1'  . 

Golden  harps  are  sounding,     ..... 

'  Good-bye,  my  mother  1 '         . 

'  Grace,  mercy,  peace,'  ..... 

Great  is  the  mystery,    ...... 

Hail,  Christmas  mom  !      .     , 

Happy,  because  He  loves  thee  I     .     .     .     . 


PAGE 

434 
404 
270 
187 

393 
195 
291 
821 
341 
295 
400 

352 
73S 

lOI 

335 
485 
224 

734 
185 
396 
308 
404 
141 
660 

797 
260 

S13 
390 
377 

477 
85 

278 
96 

7" 

496 

595 
405 
376 
381 
396 


S46 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 


Hast  thou  not  heard  within  some  sacred  pile, 

Have  you  not  a  word  for  Jesus  ?  not  a  word  to  say  for  Him 

He  answered  all  my  prayer  abundantly, 

He  hath  spoken  in  the  darkness, 

He  stood  upon  the  fiery  deck, 

'  He  suffered  ! '     Was  it.  Lord,  indeed  for  me 

He  that  overcometh  in  the  fight, 

'  He  that  winneth  souls  is  wise," 

He  who  hath  led  will  lead, 

Heard  ye  the  long,  low  roar,    . 

Heard  ye  the  sounds  of  joyous  glee, 

Hear  the  Father's  ancient  promise  ! 

'  Heather  Lintie,  tell  me,  pray," 

Here  beginnelh — chapter  the  first  of  a  series, 

His  'ove  is  the  key  and  His  glory  the  measure 

Hitherto  the  Lord  hath  helped  us. 

Holy  and  Infinite  !     Viewless,  Eternal ! 

Holy  brethren,  called  and  chosen  by  the  sovereign  Voice  of 

Holy  Father,  Thou  hast  spoken. 

How  pleasant  'tis  at  eventide. 

Hurrah  for  merry  England  1     . 

I  am  alone,  dear  Master, 

I  am  a  native  of  many  a  land,  . 

I  am  a  reward,  and  a  punishment  too, 

I  am  so  weak,  dear  Lord,  I  cannot  stand, 

I  am  the  child  of  the  brightest  thing,  . 

I  am  trusting  thee,  Lord  Jesus, 

*  1  am  with  thee  ! '     He  hath  said  it,  . 

I  bring  my  sins  to  Thee,  .  . 

I  came  from  very  far  away  to  see, 

I  could  not  do  without  Him  I  . 

I  could  not  do  without  Thee,  . 

I  don't  want  to  think  about  '  the  meaning,' 

I  dreamt  that  I  was  singing,     .  . 

I  gave  My  life  for  thee, 

1  have  a  smile  my  friends  to  greet, 

I  have  but  passed  the  first  short  stage, 

I  have  filled  my  book,  . 

I  have  no  birthday  gifts  to  bring, 

I  have  no  hymn,  my  brother,   . 

I  have  waited  for  thy  coming,  love,     . 

I  know  the  crimson  stain  of  sin,  , 


? 


Might, 


739 

503 

566 
307 
837 
347 
742 

675 
268 

133 
553 
621 
225 
733 
740 
475 
586 
701 

174 
260 

5" 
241 
247 

709 

254 
692 
717 

485 
791 

357 
437 
213 
624 
80 

335 
171 

235 
409 

415 
332 
690 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 


847 


I  love,  I  love  my  Master,  .  ,  . 

I  love  to  feci  that  I  am  taught, 

1  may  be  tall,  and  slender,  and  round, 

I  passed  along  the  meadows  fair, 

I  played  vnth  the  whispering  rushes,  . 

I  said  to  the  merry  birds  of  the  woods, 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus,    .  .  . 

'  I  thought  I  knew  it ! '  she  said,  .  , 

'  I  wait  for  thee  ! '     I  said  it  in  the  splendour, 

I  wander  in  fancy  far  away,     .  .  , 

I  welcome  not  thy  coming  now,  .  . 

If  you  get  into  me,  I  have  no  sort  of  doubt,    . 

Increase  our  faith,  belovM  Lord, 

In  desolate  wild  grandeur  all  around, 

In  fiery  caverns  was  my  glowing  birth. 

In  God's  great  field  of  labour. 

In  Thee  I  trust,  on  Thee  I  rest, 

In  the  evening  there  is  weeping,  ,  . 

In  the  freshness  of  the  spring-time, 

In  the  likeness  of  His  death,    . 

In  the  morning  sow  thy  seed,  nor  stay  thy  hand  at 

In  the  way  that  He  shall  choose. 

Is  it  a  wintry  night  ?     . 

Is  it  for  me,  dear  Saviour, 

Is  the  work  difficult  ?    . 

Is  this  the  Peace  of  God,  this  strange,  sweet  calm  ? 

Israel  of  God,  awaken  !  Church  of  Christ,  arise  and 

It  is  the  quiet  evening  time,  the  sun  is  in  the  west. 

It  is  too  calm  to  be  a  dream,    . 

It  wandered  far,  that  Sunbeam  bright 

It  was  Easter  Monday  morning, 

I've  found  at  last  the  hiding-place, 

Jehovah's  Covenant  shall  endure, 

Jesus,  beloved  Master,  art  Thou  near 

Jesus,  blessfed  Saviour, 

Jesus  came  1 — and  came  for  me  I 

Jesus,  Master,  whom  I  serve,  . 

Jesus,  Master,  whose  I  am, 

'Jesus  only  r     In  the  shadow, 

Jesus,  Thy  life  is  mine  I 

Joined  to  Christ  in  mystic  union. 

Just  to  let  Thy  Father  do. 


ev 


enmg 


hour, 


shine  ! 


PAGE 

36 
250 

54 
329 
819 
229 
625 
198 
429 
244 
703 
183 
245 
4 
487 

567 
800 

399 
533 
740 

373 
490 

396 
30 
587 
159 
840 
202 

521 
124 

558 
492 

350 

375 

29 

28 

489 

708 

589 
672 


848 


INDEX  rO  FIRST  IINES. 


PACK 

Just  when  Thou  wilt,  O  Master,  call,              ....  728 

King  Eternal  and  Immortal !  .            .            .            .            .            .  479 

Knowing  that  the  God  on  high,           .....  364 

Leaning  over  the  waterfall !      .            .            .            .            .             .  232 

Leaning,  resting,  trusting,  loving,       .....  408 

Leave  behind  earth's  empty  pleasure,  .  .  .  '95 

Let  every  thought,         .......  735 

Let  us,  by  Thy  Spirit  stirred,  ......  742 

Light !  emblem  of  all  good  and  joy  !  .  .  .  .  -71 

Like  a  river  glorious,    .......  716 

Listen  !  for  the  Lord  hath  spokeu  !     .            .            .            .            .  835 

Little  Jessie,  darling  pet,          .,!>...  279 

little  one,  what  are  you  doing,            -             ,            .             ,  106 

Lives  there  a  poet,  old  or  young,        .....  248 

Looking  unto  Jesus,      .......  693 

Lord,  I  am  in  Thy  house  of  prayer,    .....  345 

Lord,  in  mercy  pardon  me,      ......  345 

Lord,  is  it  still  the  right  way,  though  I  cannot  see  Tliy  face,             .  91 

Lord  Jesus,  keep  our  dear  one,            .....  393 

Lord,  refresh  Thy  weary  servant,        .....  416 

Lord,  speak  to  me,  that  I  may  speak,              ....  506 

Love  culminates  in  bliss  when  it  doth  reach,  .  .  .  .7° 

Love  would  strew  upon  thy  way,         .....  407 

Made  for  Thyself,  O  God !        .  .  .  .  .  .41 

Many  a  happy  year  be  thine,   ......  406 

Many  and  happy  thy  birthdays  be  !     .            .            .            .            .  407 

Many  a  voice  has  echoed  the  cry  for  ' a  lull  in  life,'    .  .  .531 

Mark  ye  not  the  sunbeams  glancing,   .            .            .            ,            ,  50 

Master,  how  shall  I  bless  Thy  name,  .....  720 

Master,  speak  !  Thy  servant  heareth,  .  .  .  .  ■     98 

Master,  to  do  great  work  for  Thee,  my  hand,             .            .            .  421 

May  the  tale  the  years  are  telling,        .....  406 

Mist  and  cloud  and  darkness,  ......  379 

My  Alpine  staff  recalls  each  shining  height,   ....  423 

ybj first  dwells  in  the  torrid  zone,        .....  265 

yiyfirsi  gleams  bright  'mid  azure  shields,       ....  259 

My  first  had  spread  her  darksome  wing,         ....  267 

My  lodging  was  on  the  cold  rough  ground,     ....  315 

My  Lord,  dost  Thou  indeed  remember  me,    .      "      .            .            .  687 

My  Master,  they  have  wronged  Thee  and  Thy  love  !             .            .  804 

My  Own  !     You  won't  expect  to  hear,             .             .            •            .  333 

'My  presence  shall  go  with  thee,'       .            .            .            •            •  4^3 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 


849 


My  second  could  never  produce  my  Jzist, 
My  whole  is  but  a  species  of  my  third. 
My  whole,  the  poet  of  flood  and  fell,    . 
New  mercies,  new  blessings,  new  light  on  thy  way,    . 
Night  is  heavy  on  the  valley  where  the  river  mist  is  chill, 
No  more  the  flowers  of  spring  are  seen. 
No,  not  a  starf  that  is  a  name  too  beautiful  and  bright, 
'  Nobody  knows  but  Jesus  ! '    . 
'  Not  as  the  world  giveth,' 
Not  long  ago  the  moon  was  dark, 
Not  yet  thou  knowest  what  I  do, 
'  Not  your  own  ! '  but  His  ye  are. 
Nothing  to  pay  !     Ah,  nothing  to  pay  1 
'  Now  I  see  1 '     But  not  the  parting,    , 
Now  let  us  sing  the  Angels'  Song, 
Now,  Lord,  I  give  myself  to  Thee, 
Now  the  light  has  gone  away,  , 

Now,  the  sowing  and  the  weeping,      . 
Now  Thy  loving  Spirit, 
O  Christmas,  merry  Christmas  ! 
O  dark  was  the  day  when  I  left  her  alone, 
O  England,  thou  art  beautiful,  and  very  dear  to  me, 
O  glorious  God  and  King, 
O  God,  with  grateful  hearts  we  come, 
O  haste,  O  haste  to  the  fields  away  1    . 
O  Heavenly  Father,  Thou  hast  told,   , 
O  herald  whisper  falling, 
O  Jesu,  Thou  didst  leave  Thy  glorious  home, 
O  Lord  most  high, 
O  Master,  at  Thy  feet, 
O  mountain  heights,  break  forth  and  sing, 
O  mystery  of  grace, 
O  Name  of  beauty  and  of  calm  1 
O  Name  of  gentlest  grace, 
O  Saviour,  precious  Saviour,    . 
O  Sea,  calm,  sleeping  Sea  !  awake,  and  lell, 
O  Spirit  of  our  Triune  Lord,   . 
O  sunbeam,  O  sunbeam  ! 
O  sweet  Sabbath  bells  1 
O  the  compensating  springs  1     O  the  balance-wheels  of  life, 
O  the  wealth  of  pearly  blossom,  O  the  woodland's  emerald  gleam  t 
O  thou  chosen  Church  of  Jesus,  glorious,  blessed,  and  secure, 

3  H 


FAGS 
263 
269 

264 

218 

132 
188 

39S 
279 

19 

25 

365 

95 

283 

739 

563 
394 
6tg 

330 
165 
478 

348 
203 

363 
743 
163 
321 

738 
736 
381 
380 

495 
193 
350 
623 

273 
451 
209 

585 


85° 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 


O  Thou  who  gatherest  with  loving  arm, 

'Occupy  till  I  return,'  .... 

Of  a  useful  whole  I'm  the  most  useful  part,     . 

Of  what  are  you  thinking  now,  dear,  . 

Oh,  children  of  England,  beyond  the  blue  sea. 

Oh,  Christmas  blessing  cannot  cease,  . 

Oh  for  a  burst  of  song, 

Oh  for  '  a  desert  place '  with  only  the  Master's  smile 

Oh  !  for  a  fiery  scroll,  and  a  trumpet  of  thunder  might. 

Oh,  haughty  Thebes  !     In  shadowy  days  of  yore, 

Oh,  let  me  know,  .... 

Oh,  let  me  know,  .... 

Oh,  let  thy  heart  make  melody, 

Oh  may'st  thou  walk  !  from  hour  to  hour, 

Oh,  must  we  not  sing  oiu-  Christmas  hymn,    . 

Oh,  not  forsaken  1     God  gives  better  things,  . 

Oh  pleasant  have  the  hours  of  my  early  childhood  been, 

'  Oh  that  I  loved  the  Father,'  . 

Oh  the  hidden  leaves  of  Life  !  . 

Oh,  the  treasures  of  the  Spring, 

Oh,  Thou,  the  Sun  of  Righteousness, 

Oh  to  be  nearer  Thee,  my  Saviour, 

Oh  !  to  raise  a  mighty  shout,  . 

Oh,  what  everlasting  blessings  God  outpoureth  on  His  own 

Oh,  what  shining  revelation  of  His  treasures  God  hath  given 

Once  on  a  time  I  a  visit  had  paid, 

t)n  every  budding  leaf  and  flower, 

On  Thee,  the  Lord,      . 

On  the  surface,  foam  and  roar, 

One  year  less,    . 

Only  a  leaf,  yet  it  shall  bear,    , 

Only  a  look  and  a  motion  that  nobody  saw  or  heard 

Only  a  mortal's  powers, 

Only  a  tiny  dropping,  . 

Only  for  J  esus  !  Lord,  keep  it  for  ever, 

Only  just  a  line  to  say, 

Only  one  dark  December  time, 

Our  Father,  our  Father,  who  dwellest  in  light. 

Our  Saviour  and  our  King, 

Our  Saviour  Christ  was  bom, . 

Our  yet  unfinished  story, 

Out  in  the  midsummer  sunshine, 


PAGH 

293 
741 

242 

337 
299 

374 
125 
150 
527 
258 
400 

839 
376 
737 
302 

565 

169 

61 

8 

331 
346 
172 

51 
551 
808 
310 
205 
737 
444 
393 
405 

26 
712 
221 
740 
410 
610 

479 

590 

370 

67 

304 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 


85  > 


Peace,  peace !  . 

'  People  do  not  understand  me,' 

Praising  together  for  all  the  way, 

Precious,  precious  blood  of  Jesus, 

Primeval  woods  my  parent's  birth, 

Que  je  sois,  O  cher  Sauveur,    . 

Read  to  him,  Connie,  read  as  you  sit. 

Reality,  reality, 

Reason  unstrings  the  harp  to  see, 

Rejoice  with  Jesus  Christ  to-day. 

Rest,  and  be  silent  1     For,  faithfully  listening. 

Rest  him,  O  Father !     Thou  didst  send  him  forth, 

Resting  on  the  faithfulness  of  Christ  our  Lord, 

Return  !  ,  .  . 

Sadly  bend  the  flowers, 

Say,  know  ye  not  the  pilgrim  band. 

Set  apart  for  Jesus  ! 

Seventeen  hundred  and  sixty  yards, 

'  Shall  rise  again  I '       . 

She  chose  His  service.     For  the  Lord  of  Love, 

She  is  at  rest,    .... 

She  stood  by  the  western  window. 

Sing,  O  heavens  1  the  Lord  hath  done  it ! 

Singing  for  Jesus,  our  Saviour  and  King, 

Sit  down  beneath  His  shadow. 

So  it  has  come  to  you,  dear,    . 

So  may  we  redeem  the  time,    . 

'Something  to  do,  mamma,  something  to  do! 

Soon  the  hour  of  dawn  shall  pass, 

Sovereign  Lord  and  gracious  Master. 

Standing  at  the  portal. 

Standing  at  the  portal, 

Stay  not  the  current  of  thy  tears,  for  they, 

Strong  and  loving  is  thy  Friend  ! 

Sunshine  and  silence  on  the  Col  de  Balm  1 

Sweet  Astlsy  bells  !  your  distant  chime. 

Sweet  blind  singer  over  the  sea, 

Sweet  flowers  of  Spring, 

Sweet  Rose  of  the  South  !  contented  to  rest, 

Swell  the  notes  of  the  Christmas  Song  1 

Sybil,  my  little  one,  come  away. 

Take  it,  O  Father  !     This  new  book  be  Thme. 


PAGE 

31 
47 

392 
686 

253 
818 
608 
793 
14s 
353 
734 
807 
700 

n 
281 
256 
670 

243 
400 

788 

88 
613 

362 

510 
557 
216 

742 

28s 
264 

591 
386 

554 
432 
392 
578 
178 

64s 
294 

323 
373 
303 
443 


S52 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 


Take  my  life  and  let  it  be,       . 

Tell  it  out  among  the  heathen  that  the  Lord  is  King  1 

'  Tempted  and  tried  ! ' 

Ten  years  ago  to-day  our  wedding  bells  were  rung, 

Terrible  waves  !     In  fierce,  unearthly  chorus, 

Thanks  be  to  God  !  to  whom  earth  owes, 

That  I'm  very  well  known  to  all  metaphysicians  'tis  true. 

That  part  is  finished,  I  lay  down  my  pen, 

The  all-victorious  Roman, 

The  blessing  of  the  trusting  one. 

The  Christmas  bells  proclaim. 

The  davwiing  day  is  beaming, 

The  forest  hath  its  voices, 

The  future  !  who  may  hft  the  veil, 

The  golden  gates  were  opening, 

The  golden  glow  is  paling. 

The  High  Priest  stands  before  the  Mercy  Seat, 

The  ills  we  see, 

The  lessons  are  done  and  the  prizes  won, 

The  Lord  commanded,  '  Give  ye  them  to  eat, 

The  Lord  hath  done  great  things  for  thee  ! 

The  Lord  is  ,^'racious — full  of  grace,    . 

The  Lord  thy  God  !      , 

The  Love  of  God  the  Father,  . 

The  Master  will  guide  the  weary  feet, 

The  meadows  rejoice  in  their  verdiire  so  bright. 

The  murmur  of  a  waterfall, 

The  prayer  of  many  a  day  is  all  fulfilled, 

The  royal  sim  with  his  orb^d  flame,    . 

The  Sabbath  morn  dawns  o'er  the  mountain  brow, 

The  seed  of  a  song  was  cast,    . 

The  Severn  flow  is  soft  and  fair,  as  slowly. 

The  stars  die  out,  and  the  moon  grows  dim, 

The  summer  sun  was  high  and  strong. 

The  Sunbeams  came  to  my  window, 

The  sun  hath  gilded  Judah's  hills, 

The  sun  is  burning,  O  little  maiden, 

The  threefold  blessing  Israel  heard, 

The  token  of  His  truth  and  care,  the  gift  that  He  hath  blessed. 

The  veiling  shades  of  night  departed, 

The  white  flowers,  freed. 

The  wilderness  shall  rejoice,     . 


PAOR 
669 
526 

S64 
326 
194 
21 
249 

747 
269 
409 
380 

195 
204 

394 
528 
276 
423 

454 
6n 
424 
390 
349 
394 
408 
840 
328 
207 
842 
246 
427 
234 
324 
629 

569 
606 
160 
32s 
393 
735 
259 
399 
372 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 


S53 


The  wondrous  love  and  light,  . 

The  world  is  full  of  crystals.     Swift,  or  slow. 

Then  Time  will  seem  as  but  a  pebble  cast, 

There  are  those  who  deem  they  know  me  well, 

There  is  a  hush  in  earth  and  sky. 

There  is  a  strange  wild  wail  around,  a  wail  of  wild  unrest, 

There  is  music  by  the  river, 

'  There  is  no  "  after\vard  "  on  earth  for  me  1 ' 

There  is  no  holy  service, 

'  There  is  no  rose  without  a  thorn  ! '    . 

There  is  One  so  fair,  so  blight. 

There  is  silence  high  in  the  midnight  sky. 

There  is  sultry  gloom  on  the  mountain  brow, 

They  said  their  texts,  and  their  hymns  they  sang. 

They  tell  me  that  my  little  tree. 

Thine  eyes  shall  see  !     Yes,  thine,  who,  blind  erewhile, 

This  New  Year  Thou  givest  me, 

'  This  same  Jesus  ! '     Oh  !  how  sweetly. 

Thou  art  coming,  O  my  Saviour  ! 

Thou  art  faithful,  praise  Thy  name,    . 

'  Thou  hast  forgiven — even  until  now  ! ' 

Thou  layest  thy  hand  on  the  fluttering  heart. 

Though  constantly  we're  in  the  mire. 

Though  the  circling  flight  of  time  may  find  us, 

Through  the  yesterday  of  ages, 

Thy  dear  one  is  with  Jesus  now  1 

Thy  light  and  truth  forth-sending. 

Thy  reign  is  righteousness. 

Thy  Spirit's  fulness  on  him  rest. 

Thy  thoughts,  O  God  !  O  theme  Divine  ! 

Tiny  feet  so  busy  in  a  tiny  patter  out  of  sight, 

'Tis  fully  known  to  One,  by  us  yet  dimly  seen, 

To  Thee,  O  Comforter  Divine, 

To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go, 

Toward  the  rising  of  the  sun,  , 

True-hearted,  whole-hearted,  faithful  and  loyal. 

Two  nations  mourn  1    The  same  great  grief  is  known, 

Under  my  window  my  couch  is  set,     . 

Unfurl  the  Christian  Standard  !  lift  it  manfully  on  high. 

Unto  him  that  hath.  Thou  givest. 

Unto  you  the  Child  is  born,     . 

Upon  the  same  bright  morning  star,  . 


PAGE 

374 

23 

421  . 

104 

33 
827 

338 
814 
782 

73 

738 
376 
647 

39 

277 

82 

395 
86 

497 
742 

360 

733 
258 
406 
727 
438 
736 
725 
736 
768 
604 
150 
556 
78 

392 
680 
440 
648 

519 
699 

372 

40s 


854 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES. 


Upon  the  Word  I  rest,  .  . 

Upon  Thy  word  I  rest, 

'  Upward,  still  upward '  thy  pathway  be, 

Vessels  of  mercy,  prepared  unto  glory  ! 

Wanderer  from  thy  Father's  home,     . 

Was  it  '  only  for  one,'  dear,  '  only  for  one,' 

We  have  heard  the  call  from  your  fair  green  Isle, 

We  nowadays  hear  of  all  sorts  of  progression 

We  pray  Thee  for  our  dear  one  ! 

We  watched  the  gradual  rising  of  a  star. 

What  are  the  whispering  voices. 

What  do  the  angels  sing  ? 

What  do  we  seek  for  him  to-day,  who,  through  such 

What  hast  Thou  done  for  me,  O  mighty  Friend, 

What  is  the  first  and  simplest  praise,  . 

What  know  we.  Holy  God,  of  Thee,  . 

What  shall  I  wish  thee  ?  .  .  . 

What  shall  Thine  '  afterward '  be,  C  Lord,     . 

What  though  the  blossom  fall  and  die  ? 

What  was  I  ?    Such  a  clever  friar. 

What  was  the  first  angelic  word, 

What  will  the  summer  bring?  . 

•  What  wouldst  thou  be  ? ' 

'  What  wouldst  thou  be  ?' . 

When  first  the  sun  dispels  the  cloudy  night,    . 

When  home  I  came  after  many  a  day, 

When  the  early  morn  awaketh, 

When  the  first  bright  dawn  of  a  Sabbath-day, 

When  the  loveliest  flowers  are  waking, 

Where  are  the  countless  crystals, 

Where  the  tall  pine-forest  made," 

Where  will  ye  seek  me ?    The  Andes  rise. 

Who  is  on  the  Lord's  side  ?     . 

Who  saith  that  Poetry  is  not  in  thee. 

Who  shall  tell  our  untold  need, 

Who  will  take  care  of  me  ?  darling,  you  say  ! 

Whom  hear  we  tell  of  all  the  joy  which  loving  Faith 

Why  does  it  seem  familiar  ground  ?     . 

Why  do  we  cling  to  earth  ?     Its  sweetest  pleasures, 

Will  you  come  out  and  see,      ... 

Will  you  not  come  to  Him  for  Life  f  . 

With  quivering  heart  and  trembling  will, 


golden 


can  bring 


gates. 


PAGE 

■836 

734 
407 
816 

354 
336 
300 
227 
40& 
748 
341 
374 
414 
682 
II 

47^ 

383 

568 

834 

244 

377 

55 

42 

44 

491 

332 
181 
176 

175 
100 
262 
252 
677 
109 

83 

284 

59 
148 
167 
280 
355 

93 


INDEX  TO  FIRST  LINES, 


&55 


Wonderful !     Wonderful ! 

Ye  have  seen  me  in  the  skies,  . 

Ye  maidens  of  Old  England  I  . 

Ye  who  hear  the  blessed  call,  . 

Yes  !  He  knows  the  way  is  dreary, 

Yes,  I  will  leave  it  all  with  Thee, 

Yes,  take  the  greenery  away,    . 

'  Yet  speaketh  ! '  though  the  voice  is  hushed 

'You  bear  the;  chalice.'     Is  it  so,  my  friend? 

'  You  never  write  of  heaven, 


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MORRISON   AND  GIDB,    PRINTERS,   EDINBURGH 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


OCT  2  4  1975.  _, 

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